


Long Hours of Constant Darkness

by kinky_kneazle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-01
Updated: 2011-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 69,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_kneazle/pseuds/kinky_kneazle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The effects of climate change are happening faster than anyone thought they would, so Hermione sends Harry to Antarctica to investigate. But when Harry meets the team he'll be crossing the ice with, he thinks he's already found the source of the problem: Draco Malfoy. On the ice, you must rely on your team and Harry and Draco become friends. But with everything that's gone wrong in his life of late, can Harry trust Draco? Or even his own feelings?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Hours of Constant Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest thanks ever to , who stepped in at the last minute to beta this monstrosity. This story is a million times better for having had her input. Any errors remaining are all mine. Thanks also to all the chatzy people (you know who you are!) for numerous Word Wars and words of encouragement that ensured this was finished. And thanks to who has been a rock during the last month or so of work. , , and have created some beautiful artwork that inspired me as I wrote towards the finish line. This story is based on a prompt for , submitted by , and I'd like to send my heartfelt thanks for that inspiration, along with my apologies for not writing it last year when I said I would. Any story this long, especially with this much research, has a million people to acknowledge. If you'd like more information about sources and inspiration, please see my [acknowledgements post.](http://kinky-kneazle.dreamwidth.org/65505.html)

  


Chapter 1  


 

**October 10, 2019: My adventure started with a meeting with an old friend…**

The last place Harry expected to be on a sunny day in early October was back at the Ministry of Magic. He’d thought, when he'd walked out in a cloud of suspicion and scandal a little over twelve months before, that he would stay away, only visiting when he needed to renew his Apparition license or apply for a Floo connection in a new residence. Instead, he was ensconced in the Minister's personal boardroom, with Hermione, Kingsley, and Theodore Nott on the other side of the table, trying to convince him to go to Antarctica.

"What does this have to do with us?" Harry was still fuzzy on the details.

"For starters, Harry, if the world drowns, then we drown along with it." Of course Hermione would look at the big picture first. "Secondly, we didn't bring you in here to give you a rundown on climate science. There's something else."

There was a look on Hermione's face that was too familiar to Harry. He'd seen it too often during their months camping on the hunt for Horcruxes. Something was very wrong.

"Hermione, you just told me that the science was sound. That ninety-seven percent of climatologists agreed that humans were causing global warming – "

"Climate change."

"Climate change, then. Industrial age and carbon fuels and cars and too many cows. All of that. We can't change the way Muggles create electricity or travel or any of that. I guess… are there fresh air spells we can do that will get rid of the carbon dioxide?"

"The best modelling always suggested that without action, the poles would melt around the beginning of the next century. Instead, chunks of ice the size of this country are breaking away from the Antarctic ice shelf at an increasingly rapid rate. And people with beachfront property in Blackpool are designing gardens for mermen. It's happening too fast."

"So the models were wrong. I'm not a scientist, Hermione. Just because you went to Oxford to study biological science, doesn't mean all of us have carved out a career melding Muggle science with magical theory."

He could tell this was serious, because she didn’t even smile that little smile she always gave when someone mentioned her Oxford doctorate and subsequent research career.

"We've discovered some strange magical signatures in Antarctica." That was Theodore Nott. "Large spikes that coincide with ice breaking away from the shelves."

"We're afraid that something, _someone_ , is speeding things up."

"A Dark wizard?"

"Yes, Potter. Why else would we call the former Head Auror? If it was scientific, we'd go down there ourselves." Nott sounded bitter.

" _Down_ there?"

"Yes, Harry. It's really important. I've got a contact in the Australian Antarctic Division and he's agreed to you joining his next expedition. It's an all-magical expedition, and he thinks you're looking for a lost artefact of Voldemort. He's told the Australian government that you're writing a book about climate change, so there are a couple of cover stories to keep straight. We need you to go down there and see if there's anything strange going on." She paused and looked straight into his eyes. "And I thought, what with everything, you might want to get away for a while."

Ah, yes. Everything. Considering his resignation and divorce were still tabloid fodder, so many months later, there wasn't really a need to use delicate euphemisms to keep the information from Theo. Still, Hermione was probably right. Getting away would leave the tabloids with nothing to write about and might even allow his children to study in peace for the rest of the year. Or until the next scandal.

" _Down_ there? So Antarctica's the _South_ Pole?"

"Harry, didn't you pay any attention during geography?"

"Possibly not."

"Fine. Just tell me if you're going to do it or not."

"Hermione, if it's as important as you say it is, of course I'll do it. Just tell me what I need to do and where to go."

"This is the first all-magical expedition and it's going to the South Pole in December. They'll cross the continent over the summer, and then spend winter at one of the bases. If you figure out what's going on prior to the last boat leaving, you can be back by March. If not, it will be March the following year."

"Hermione, that's sixteen months! I'd miss more than a year of my children's lives! Why can't I just Portkey there, check it out and come straight back?"

"Portkeys won't work in Antarctica, and I'm not going to explain why, because your eyes will just glaze over while I talk." Harry had to admit she was right, but he was sure he didn't look happy about it. She glanced around at Nott and the Minister, and they didn't even ask before getting up and walking out the door. She sat on the table in front of him and took his hand in his. "I know it's too much to ask of you, after everything that you've already had to do for this world, but we can't think of anyone else with your skills. Your power."

Harry frowned at this. Surely the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had people that were employed to look for Dark wizards. In fact, Harry knew that they did, because he used to be one, and he said as much.

"If we send someone from the Ministry, people will notice. We don’t want to start a panic over what still might be nothing."

"And the Ministry trusts me with something like this?" It was possible the bitterness in his voice was unjustified, but that didn't mean he could hide it.

"Harry, you know I don't believe any of that crap that was in the _Prophet_ last year, and I really wish you'd tell me what went on, so that we could fix it." She paused, obviously hoping he would fill the silence, but he kept his mouth firmly closed, so she continued. "I trust you. After what we went through together I'm always going to trust you. So please, agree to go."

Even though Hermione was asking for the Ministry and not herself, he knew he was going to say yes. As soon as he made his decision, she was grinning and clasping his hand so tight, she was cutting off circulation.

"Thank you so much, Harry. Now," she reached behind her and pulled a large pile of books towards her. "I've got some reading for you to do."

 

Harry was feeling decidedly cold later that night, as he finished a personal account of a trip to the South Pole. It looked like all the books that Hermione had got for him were like that, and he could only imagine it was because Hermione knew he would never read the dry tomes that she favoured.

He pulled the rug closer across his lap and stared into the fire, which was probably not needed this time of year, except that he could feel the cold of Grimmauld Place creeping into his bones. He was contemplating a place so cold that your urine froze before it even hit the ground, when the Floo flared to life in front of him.

"I just spoke to Hermione."

It had been barely six months since the divorce was finalized, and the last person he wanted to speak to tonight was Ginny. Still, the conversation had to happen, so he looked at her. She was towering over him as he sat in his chair. It was a pose he'd grown familiar with over the last year.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?"

"Reading," he replied, as he held up his book. "And trying to stay warm."

"I meant, why are you going to bloody _Antarctica_?"

He thought back to the months of arguments after it had all happened. That moment when she'd told him he should just disappear, since his presence was only hurting her and humiliating his children.

"I thought this was what you wanted?"

"I suggested you abandon your children to go on a suicide mission to the South Pole _by yourself?_ "

By the end of the sentence, her voice was sounding rather shrill and his count to ten abruptly stopped. He shouted back.

"No, Ginny, you told me that it would have been better for the entire Weasley family if I'd died killing Voldemort!"

The fight left her suddenly, and like so many times in the last eighteen months, she was crumpled on the floor in tears. He gathered her in his arms, as he always did, and she accepted the comfort, as he knew she would, until she realized exactly who he was.

"I don't want you to die. I don't want our children losing a parent like Rose and Hugo lost theirs. But –"

She bit her lip before the words came out. Before the inevitable point that, if it hadn't been for him, Rose and Hugo would still have a father. Before the deterioration of her mother and the second hole in the close-knit Weasley family came up. Before she pointed out again that this family, whom he'd seen as his since he was thirteen years old, was not really his at all. He was just the interloper who'd secured his place with marriage, but could just as easily lose that place again. Had lost that place, with a secret that he couldn't tell any of them.

"I'm not going alone, Ginny. Hermione arranged for me to join some expedition."

"Hermione said it was important that you go. That you'd be finding yourself again."

That was a different cover story to the one Hermione had told him about. He wondered how many lies she was telling about this trip.

Ginny drew back and their eyes met. Harry tried to remember how long it was since she'd looked at him with love in her eyes. She didn't now. No, this woman he'd shared his life with for nineteen years looked at him with a mix of regret, anger, and a soul-deep anguish that couldn't be budged. It had been that way for too long.

"You should have talked to me before you made this decision." He started to interrupt, but she spoke over him quickly. "Talked to the kids, at any rate. You're going to miss their summer holidays. Possibly two Christmases."

"There was no other decision for me to make. I'm sorry, Ginny, but I have to go."

"Are you going to say good-bye to them, or are you going to leave the difficult conversations to me again?"

Harry felt his anger flare again and wanted to point out that she hadn't _allowed_ him to talk to the kids, but instead he counted to ten as he'd been taught to in Auror training. The first step on the way to Occlumency, and certainly a lifesaver in a marriage to a woman as volatile as Ginny Weasley.

"I'll speak to them. I'll go out to the school for the last Hogsmeade weekend and let them know what's going on." And wouldn't that be a charming conversation; one son blaming him for his favourite uncle's death, one son staunchly refusing to believe he'd done anything wrong, and his beautiful daughter trying to reconcile what she'd read with the hero she'd always worshipped. Maybe it _would_ be better if he heroically took out the Evil Weather Wizard of Antarctica, dying in the attempt and leaving them with someone they could once again look up to.

"I don't know why you can't find yourself in somewhere like Paris. Or Tahiti." They smiled at each other, before Ginny suddenly realized that she hated him, yet she was still sitting in his arms. She pulled away suddenly, the shutters going down. "I need to go."

"Of course."

She threw a handful of Floo powder down and went back to their house in Godric's Hollow.

Harry stared into the fire after she'd left. A chance to find himself. Unfortunately, he didn't feel lost. He knew where he was; it was everyone else who was in the dark. He pulled another book from the pile and opened it to the front page. He'd learned to be prepared in the last twenty years, and if Hermione wanted him to read all of this, he would. At least it stopped his thoughts of other things.

 

**October 12, 2019: I didn't realize at the time how much shopping was involved in readying for Antarctica…**

Two days later, Harry heard the fireplace flare and a voice call out.

"Harry? Are you home?"

"In here, Hermione!"

"I've got someone I want you to meet."

Harry groaned softly; he really didn't have time for yet another person Hermione 'wanted him to meet'. He was surrounded by all sorts of things that may or may not be useful in Antarctica, and Hermione had so far been very little help. A Google search had actually provided a checklist from the Australian government for people going to work for them, but Hermione still hadn't told him who he was going with or how he was going to get there. And now she was bugging him with what was likely yet another Mind-Healer, because she felt he had to 'talk about it'.

He was sitting in the middle of something that he wished was organised chaos, but was, in fact, just chaos. He was tempted to just Apparate out to the lounge room, so as not to disturb anything, or possibly slip and break his neck. Instead, he stood carefully and picked his way through the debris to the hall.

Hermione was standing patiently near the fire, talking with her guest. Harry could tell immediately that it wasn't a shrink. He was wearing jeans as old and baggy as Harry's used to be, when he was living with the Dursleys. His brown hair was in dire need of a cut, and he was probably around the same age as Harry, though it was often difficult to tell with magical people. He wore a dark t-shirt that clung to him, showing off the sort of broad shoulders and muscular back that Harry had only seen on people who did physical work for a living, but when he turned, Harry saw he had a pouch of fat on him that went against the impression he had from the rest of his body.

Hermione saw him then and stepped forward.

"Harry, I'd like to introduce you to Rolf Scamander. Rolf, this is Harry Potter."

Rolf stepped forward with a grin on his face. "Nice to meet you, Harry." His accent showed he clearly wasn't from around here. "I hear you're just about ready for me."

Harry's eyes shifted to Hermione and she quickly stepped in. "Rolf is the leader of the Antarctic mission you'll be going along on. He's just come in from Greenland via Portkey to get you packed and take you back with him."

"Hermione, you said that I wouldn't be leaving until the end of November."

"We need you to do some training," Rolf put in. "The rest of the team is already there, and you have to meet them and get some training on the cross-country part of the expedition."

"Cross-country?"

"How much has Hermione told you about what we're doing?"

"Obviously not enough."

"I'll just leave you two to it," Hermione said, heading to the Floo.

"Hermione-"

"You'll be fine, Harry. Just let Rolf explain things."

Harry growled at her retreating back, but quickly agreed to dinner with Rolf. Before long, Harry found himself sitting at a quiet corner in the Leaky Cauldron with an obscenely large amount of food in front of him. Rolf had already started eating, and by the amount of calories he was ingesting, it was clear where the pouch of fat had come from.

"You have to finish everything as well, Harry. The first part of the trip is a transverse of the continent and you'll be going through about 5,000 calories each day. You need to pack it on before you go, so that there's plenty of excess to burn."

Harry looked at the heaped plate of roast pork and five types of vegetables, plus a plate of chips on the side, and started eating.

"A transverse?" He started with what seemed like the easiest question.

"A crossing from side to side. We'll be going from one side of the continent to the other, with a stop in the middle – the South Pole. Hermione told me you're looking for a relic of that dark dude you had some problems with a few years back."

Harry choked at the 'dark dude' description. "You mean Voldemort?"

"That's the one. I don't know how easy it will be to find. I mean, Antarctica is still a continent. Still, a transverse will give you time to get a bead on the magical signature and she said that you had some special way of tracking it. We'll go through the South Pole and on to Mawson Base, where we'll be based for the winter. Then we'll catch the boat out from Mawson with the next travel season."

"That seems easy enough." Harry tried to ignore the smirk on the other man's face. "And how do we get from one side of this continent to the other? Brooms?"

"Oh, no. Brooms don't work in the Antarctic climate. We're going to ski."

Harry almost choked on the mouthful of roast pork. His thoughts went back to that Muggle holiday they'd all taken with Hermione's parents. He'd spent the entire fortnight wet and miserable, on his arse in the snow. He was going to _kill_ Hermione.

 

Over the course of dinner, Harry had discovered that Rolf was raised in Australia; that yes, he was related to _that_ Scamander; and that he was determined to turn Harry into an Antarctic explorer. He also knew that their group consisted of one woman and another man and that two of them were magizoologists and one researched magical climatic theory. Harry was hoping the climatologist would be able to explain some things to him – the books Harry was reading hadn't made anything clear in his mind.

He also discovered that getting ready to go to Antarctica for a year wasn't the easiest thing ever. He had a list of things to pack, things to do and medical procedures to arrange and he wondered if Hermione knew that he'd be agreeing to invasive surgery when she asked him to do this.

"Explain to me again why I need to have my appendix out?" he asked when Rolf arrived after lunch the next day.

"Extreme cold interferes with a number of the body's normal functions. Blood flow is a very good example – you've heard of frostbite?"

"Of course."

"Well, the appendix is one of those things that get affected by the cold. Everyone spending any length of time in the Arctic or Antarctic should have it out, because it's much easier here in the real world than in a frozen wonderland where it's possible that one of your expedition group will be reading instructions on how to do it from a First Aid book."

Harry sighed and stuck his head in the Floo to arrange the appointment for the week after they got back from Greenland, to go with the dental appointment and the general check-up.

Rolf was there that day to take Harry on a shopping trip.

"The equipment you'll need in Antarctica is actually quite a bit more involved than what you'll need for Greenland, but we'll get started." Rolf led him into Muggle London to a series of specialist outdoor shops that were willing to take any and all money he'd been silly enough to change into pounds.

Three hours later, Harry was back at Grimmauld Place with more thermal underwear than he ever thought he'd own. On top of that, there were also skis, gloves, socks, balaclavas, mittens, socks, a sleeping bag and a lot of other things that he wasn't sure he recognized – oh, and also socks. He had boots with little spikes on the bottom – crampons, Rolf had called them – as well as things called camp booties. The living room was now full of bags and skis and the like, and he thought all of it was made from some material called polypropylene which would wick away sweat from his body while keeping the moisture from the air away.

"You okay, Harry?"

He nodded, telling himself that he wasn't overwhelmed. Definitely not.

"Yeah. What's next?"

"Next ,we go to Greenland. We'll head off early, so pack everything up and I'll meet you here at six a.m."

Harry continued nodding mutely as Rolf stepped into the Floo and disappeared. It was hard to get his head around exactly what he'd gotten himself into.

 

_October 14, 2019: I didn't really know what I was getting into; Greenland was a revelation…_

Harry and Rolf finally arrived in Greenland some seven hours after they set out, what with collecting gear, getting stuck in Customs at the Portkey office, a wayward portkey to Rome and a long layover in Oslo. Rolf insisted that they carry their gear the Muggle way, with minimal shrinking charms, so that when they finally arrived at the small shed that served as a Portkey office, his fingers were sore from clutching skis and his back ached from the unaccustomed weight.

"We can Apparate to the hotel we're staying in. I can Side-Along you straight into the suite."

"Anything to avoid more walking."

Rolf pursed his lips for a moment. "You're right. Let's walk. We need to get you fit, Harry."

He counted to ten as he followed Rolf out onto the street. Rolf kept talking as he walked. “I owled the team last night to let them know we were coming, but I didn't tell them who you are. Thought I'd surprise them with the famous Harry Potter!"

Harry flashed a grim smile at Rolf. The trip would be unbearable if these people were Harry Potter fans.

"Rolf," a familiar voice called from behind him. "You're back!"

Harry turned, but didn't have time to say anything before Luna Lovegood was in his arms. "You brought Harry! What a wonderful surprise!"

"You two have met? There goes any cred I get for bringing someone famous back with me."

"We were in school together," Harry replied.

"We fought a war together, Rolf. We'll save the stories for around the campfire in the dead of a very sunny Antarctic night. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know. Finding myself. Adventuring. The usual." Luna looked at him with her always-too-perceptive eyes, so he changed the topic. "What about you? Breaking hearts in Greenland these days?"

"Harry!" She gave him a light slap. "I have information on some strange magical signatures near the South Pole. I think it could be the famous Lorcala penguins. They're known for their raw magical power."

Harry just nodded, as he had so many times previously with Luna. "So, you're the second magizooologist?"

She nodded.

"And who's the magiclimatologist?"

"That would be me."

Harry's stomach dropped at that familiar drawl. He spun around and wondered, for what was probably the millionth time in his life what it was that fate had against him. Draco Malfoy.

They'd seen each other occasionally since Harry had testified on Draco's behalf at the trials, but Draco had largely dropped out of wizarding society, so their contact was brief. The last time he'd seen Malfoy had been when he'd dropped Albus off for his first day at Hogwarts. Malfoy's son was in the same year as Albus. But that was two years ago, and he hadn't seen the other man since.

"Malfoy." He reached his hand forward and was surprised when Malfoy shook it briefly.

"Potter."

"You know everyone, Harry. How convenient."

Luna's arm was still wrapped around his waist and he gave her a quick squeeze. "I haven't seen either of them for quite a while, but yes. We all went to school together."

"Hopefully that will help us all form a cohesive team quickly." He turned to Malfoy. "How's the weather been, Drake?"

Harry raised his eyebrow at the nickname, but Malfoy just ignored it.

"Cold and dry, just how we want it. Luna and I went out on the skis for a bit today, and it's meant to stay the same for the rest of the week."

"So we'll be able to get out onto the snow early tomorrow." Harry had noticed that Rolf tended to speak without expecting a reply a lot of the time. "Good to get Harry on the snow straight away, see where he's up to. Right." He looked up suddenly. "Set out at eight tomorrow?"

Luna and Draco agreed quickly and went back to what they were doing. Harry noticed that the entire room was as chaotic as his bedroom had been the other day. Luna was moving piles of clothing from one side of the room to the other and as he watched, Malfoy sat on the cheap-looking couch and picked up a pair of fur-lined shoes. Harry thought he had a similar pair somewhere in his rucksack. As he watched, Malfoy picked up needle and thread and began to ply the needle, reinforcing the seams.

"All of Harry's gear needs to be reinforced as well, but he looks exhausted, and it's not like he needs that in Greenland. You should have a sleep, Harry."

"No, I-" A yawn cut off what he was saying. "Maybe I should."

"Well, Draco's sharing with Luna in that room, so you can share with me in here."

Rolf pushed open a door and Harry dropped gratefully into a single bed and was asleep soon afterwards.

 

When he woke, some five hours later, he walked back out to the living area and stood, quietly watching the scene in front of him. There was a small table pushed to one side and Luna and Rolf sat at it, eating more than their body weight in simple carbohydrates. Draco was back on the couch, another piece of clothing in his hand as he went over it with needle and thread.

Draco's hair was starting to recede, he noticed. It made him seem a little more human, rather than all perfect angles and icy blond, as he’d seemed at school. Like most wizards, even now that he was in his forties, he looked far closer to late twenties, despite the hairline. Like Rolf, and even Luna now that he looked, Malfoy was muscular and lean, except for a growing paunch that reminded him of a beer belly. A small bowl of nuts sat beside him and he idly ate them as he worked.

What amazed Harry more was the look on Draco's face. He was plying his needle without having to concentrate on it. Instead, he was chatting to Luna and Rolf. He grinned as he popped another nut into his mouth and Harry wondered if he'd ever seen Draco Malfoy look so open. At school, even at the Slytherin table, there was a haughty look to him - something closed off, as he acted the role of the ice prince – something that Harry now realised was expected of him. Here, with Loony Lovegood and an Australian magizoologist, Malfoy actually looked relaxed.

Unfortunately, the floor creaked, and as soon as Malfoy realised he was there, his face shuttered again. No haughtiness like there used to be, just no openness. Malfoy wasn't going to let Harry see who he was.

Well, it was fine by him, Harry thought, as he stepped into the room.

"We've saved you some food, Harry," Rolf said. "You need to -"

"Get fat. I know."

Luna and Rolf laughed as Harry sat before yet another meal of too many carbohydrates. Hermione was constantly telling him to eat better and this little job of hers was causing him to eat all the things she said he didn't need, like fats and high GI foods.

"We were just talking about the camping arrangements, Harry. The transverse will probably take a good three months, what with side-trips for anything we see that is interesting. Did you know there are _Arctic_ Wrackspurts, Harry?" Luna's eyes lit up. "I'm hoping that we see some in the Antarctic as well, though of course, it is the magical form of penguin that I'm really interested in. Rolf says there might be other magical birds, and we think that there is some form of whale breeding down there, as well."

Harry let Luna's voice wash over him as he shovelled the food into his mouth. "And polar bears?" he asked at a pause in the lecture.

"Oh, Harry, polar bears are from the _North_ Pole. There aren't any down south. Anyway, with three months, we thought we'd swap tent mates every week or so. Stops us getting bored with the people around us. But we weren't sure how you and Draco would go, since you always hated each other."

Ah, Luna. Always with the refreshing honesty. Harry looked over at Draco who was determinedly looking at the jacket he was sewing up, a blank expression on his face. "I don't mind, Luna. We're going to have to get used to each other, aren't we? But you don't mind sharing with, well, men?"

"It's alright, Harry. I know you all _try_ not to be smelly, so I can put up with it."

There were sniggers all round at that and Malfoy snorted. "After three months in a tent, you'll smell exactly the same as us, Luna, so don't judge!"

Following that, Rolf launched into a description of their plans for the next few days, while making sure Harry ate his weight in old-fashioned bread and dipping.

Unfortunately, despite the weather forecast, the clouds came over during the night and by morning, there was a blizzard roaring outside their room. But that didn't mean they had nothing to do. Their cramped living space was a headquarters, of sorts; although the talk was not about what the latest Dark Wizard was doing or advances in defensive magic, the easy camaraderie reminded him of a stake-out. Luna was hunched over a copy of _The Journal of Magical Beasts._ Draco had a laptop open on the table and seemed to be clicking rapidly through a website. Harry squinted at it. He seemed to be ordering food.

Harry himself was on a pair of skis in the middle of the room. Rolf was taking the opportunity to teach him the proper technique for cross-country skiing.

"Let's try fitting the harness."

"Harness?"

"Yup. We each have to drag food and equipment behind us."

"Why don't you just shrink everything? Is it just to hide from any Muggles you see? And how many Muggles would you even see in Antarctica?"

"Hiding from Muggles isn't even a consideration. You do see a few in the summer months - we won't be the only people out exploring - but the fact is, magic doesn't work the same way in Antarctica." Harry raised his eyebrows at Rolf's explanation. "I'm sure Draco could explain it better, but basically, in the same way extreme that cold affects the human body's ability to work efficiently, it also affects the wizard's body from utilizing magic effectively. Drake?"

Malfoy looked up from the computer. "You're doing fine, Rolf. Anything I tried to explain would just go over Potter's head. He's more into action than theory."

Rolf laughed, seeming to think Malfoy was just kidding around, but Harry frowned. Jibes were going to get old pretty damned quickly. "Well, we won't go into the theory, just how it's going to manifest itself during the trip. Basic magic won't work the way you expect. Magic won't flow through your wand the way you're used to. There are some charms we incorporate into the fabric of the tents and sleeping bags – drying charms and warming charms – but these will be fading by the time we arrive at Mawson base. More complicated charms, like shrinking charms, are completely haphazard. If your food has been shrunk, it's possible you won't be able to unshrink and eat it. The same with everything else, and the last thing you want is to be trapped in a summer blizzard with your only shelter stuck at the size of your palm."

"That's why you don't just Apparate to the South Pole?"

"You never Apparate in Antarctica."

"Really, Harry," Luna said, looking up from her journal. "No one has ever successfully Apparated there. Some have just disappeared. Most splinch themselves so badly, they never wake up."

"Important safety note, then."

"Do try not to just ignore this one, Potter. If you're determined to be part of the team, you'll actually have to _be_ there."

This time, Rolf looked a bit bemused at the droll disdain coming from where Malfoy sat at the computer, which gave the git a chance to stand and grab a coat.

"I'm going for a wander. I'll meet you at the restaurant for dinner."

Rolf watched him walk out, then turned to Harry. "Don't mind him. He always gets cabin fever when he's stuck inside for more than a couple of days."

Harry didn't want to be the one to tell Rolf that two of his team had been mortal enemies, and at the moment, it didn't seem that long ago.

 

Draco did seem more relaxed when they went down to the hotel restaurant a few hours later. He was sitting at the bar smiling up into the eyes of a man just as blond and good-looking as he was. Before he turned away, Harry saw the stranger press a key into Draco's hand.

"There's Draco," Luna said. "Hopefully he booked us a table."

"Maybe he doesn't want to eat with us," Harry said, putting a hand on Luna's arm.

"We always eat together on training trips, Harry. It's part of the team-building. This is also the last one, really. Next time we're in the snow together, we'll be on Antarctic ice!" Her eyes glowed and he wondered when it was Luna had lost the familiar dreamy expression and started to shine with enthusiasm. She was a Ravenclaw, he reminded himself. And she'd fought a war. He should know better than to underestimate her, despite the talk of Wrackspurts.

They followed a server towards a booth and Draco was weaving towards them from the other direction.

"Have a good day, Malfoy?"

"I did, thank you, Potter. It was much more enjoyable for not being spent in your company."

Harry scowled as Malfoy looked back over his shoulder at the blond. How long had it been since anyone had looked at _him_ with that lazy sensuality that the blond at the bar had in his eyes as he stared at their table? Even before the events that had ended their marriage, he and Ginny had been together for almost twenty years and, whilst familiar and enjoyable, their lovemaking had long since lost its spark. He frowned down at the menu.

"We're probably lucky Potter turned up when he did," Malfoy added to whatever conversation Luna and Rolf were having. Harry looked up at the sound of his name. "The blizzard came so suddenly that no one was ready for it. There are a number of people stuck out there."

"We've been through blizzards before."

"Not like this one. The weather station is saying it's the worst in a century."

"Another manifestation of climate change?" Luna asked.

"You know as well as I do that it's difficult to pin any one weather system on the effects of climate change. But stronger storms? Weather events coming without warning? It has all the hallmarks."

"It's not magic?" Harry asked and was treated to a withering glare.

"No, it's not magic. Despite what your previous experiences may have suggested to you, magic can neither control nor fix everything. The sort of power involved in creating whole weather systems is huge, and this one is encompassing the entire island."

"So what force _can_ affect entire weather systems?"

Malfoy looked at him for a moment, as if trying to decide if Harry's question was serious. He had opened his mouth to answer when their waitress arrived. Harry listened to the others order while he tried to decide if Malfoy was going to favour him with an actual answer or just a scathing remark. After a few pointed questions to their server, he settled on musk ox with wild garlic and potatoes and a glass of Coke and turned back to Malfoy.

"It's a complicated business, Potter."

"I'm smarter than I look."

"You'd have to be, otherwise you wouldn't be managing to walk and talk at the same time."

Harry glared at him and opened his mouth, but Rolf spoke over him. "No need to be rude, Draco. Just try answering the question. I'd like to have a peaceful dinner."

There was something in Rolf's eyes as he looked across the table and Harry was surprised to see Malfoy acquiesce.

"Fine. What do you know already?"

"Umm... I haven't kept up to date with Muggle news, but from what I understand, there are things called carbon fuels which cause the earth to become warmer. Though it's hard to believe that sitting in a blizzard in Greenland," he grinned. "And Muggles have been refusing to do anything about it, because they don't believe it's happening."

"A remarkably simple, but not entirely inaccurate summation, Potter. I imagine you got that explanation from Granger."

"Yes."

"Well, she's not wrong. This planet has a field of sorts around it, made up of a number of gases, which have evolved to let just enough sunlight in and warmth out to create the optimal environment for life. However, this field is a very delicate balance. From the time of the industrial revolution, Muggles began to burn fossil fuels - coal at the time, oil in the centuries since - and this released carbon dioxide."

Draco paused as their meals arrived and Harry warily looked at his plate. It's just meat, he told himself. It doesn't matter that it's an ox that is often musky as opposed to cows that smelled in a different way entirely. He lifted his fork to his mouth and took a careful bite and was surprised at the flavour. A bit stronger than beef, but certainly tasty and with a good marbling of fat which would help his quest to gain weight. He quickly cut himself another piece.

"So, carbon dioxide is a greenhouse gas. What they do is essentially turn the planet into a greenhouse. They stay in the atmosphere and stop the heat being released back into space, so the earth just keeps getting hotter and hotter."

"I thought there had been record cold spells. I mean, there was snow in London for Christmas last year."

"There's a difference between weather and climate." Harry noticed that Malfoy still spoke with his fork, a piece of salmon speared on the end of it was being used to emphasis his point. "Weather is the day to day stuff, and climate is large and over-reaching. The averages keep getting hotter, even as the average increase affects regular weather patterns."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"You still look confused, Potter."

"I am, I guess. So, if humans stop using oil, then the earth stops warming?"

"Well, it's not the only greenhouse gas."

"Yes, there's the cow farts as well," Luna put in, sending Rolf sputtering into his drink.

"Hermione mentioned cows, but their farts?"

"Methane is probably one of the worst culprits. And, yes, the largest contributor of methane is the waste of the earth's huge cow population. And now it's probably too late anyway. The Muggle population didn't do anything when the first warning signs appeared and most of the current scientific thinking says that they needed to do something ten years ago."

"That's really pessimistic, you know."

"No, Potter, it's realistic."

"How about we talk about something that won't convince Harry that life's not worth living? At least over dinner?"

Harry agreed with Rolf and began answering the man's questions about his school days.

Any conversation about Hogwarts inevitably turned to the war, and despite his attempts to change the subject, he ended up explaining the battles against Voldemort that seemed to come with every year. He noticed that as the story continued, Draco got only got quieter and more broody.

"Draco, I thought you could look at some of Harry's equipment tonight. You know what to look for."

"Sure," Malfoy said. "Anything to help Saint Potter."

"Great!" Rolf said and Harry wondered how it was that he didn't recognise the antagonism between two of his team. Maybe he was like the stereotypical scientist - oblivious to anything that wasn't one of his favourite magical creatures. Still, the man was supposed to be leading them across a continent; Harry would feel more confident if he was a little more switched on.

The four of them made their way back to their suite. Harry noticed that the blond from earlier was watching Draco walk out. "What about your friend?" he asked, indicating the man at the bar.

Malfoy followed his eyes and gave the blond a tight smile on their way past. "What about him?"

"I saw him give you his key earlier."

"Problem with homosexuals, Potter?"

"Of course not." Considering how much he liked a cock in his arse, there had better be no problems. "I just wondered if you'd like to do this some other time, if you already had plans."

"Not that it's any of your business, but he's not my type."

"Fine. Let's go fix my things."

Draco followed Harry into the bedroom he shared with Rolf and dragged all his gear out to look at. "First, we'll have to teach you to sew. Everything, and I do mean _everything_ , needs to have the seams reinforced. Usually with something sewn over the seams as well. Any crack can let the cold in, and any cold is leaving yourself open for illness and injury."

"Why don't the seams already keep the cold out?"

"Very few people go to Antarctica, or the Arctic. Equipment for that sort of extreme cold just isn't profitable, so we buy things usually made for climbers and alpine skiers, and adjust it as needed. Certainly no one is as crazy enough to go down there just to _find themselves_ , like you're doing."

"There's a bit more to it than that."

"Yes. I'm sure there's a great deal of running away going on as well."

Malfoy kept sifting through Harry's gear as he spoke, so missed the anger mounting in Harry's eyes.

"I don't run from anything, Malfoy."

"Yes, I heard the stories during dinner, as if I haven't heard them before. Honestly, do you _never_ stop talking about yourself?"

"Rolf asked -"

"And the great Harry Potter was more than happy to answer. I know."

Harry did his counting to ten trick and found that it wasn't working very well with Draco Malfoy.

"I don't know why you think I like talking about myself, Malfoy, but I didn't choose this life. If I could have avoided going up against Voldemort and having my friend tortured by your aunt, I would have."

"I think you like it, because you never do anything to avoid the fame. Isn't this just another way to get attention? The rest of us work damn hard not only to get to Antarctica, but also once we get there. It's important work we're doing, and now we have to bloody babysit you."

Their voices had risen, but Harry didn't notice the door opening behind him.

"I don't need a babysitter. I think I've proven over the course of my life that I can take care of myself."

Suddenly Draco was very close, nose to nose with his finger jabbing into Harry's chest.

“Let me explain something to you, Potter. Out on that ice you are _nothing_. You have no experience and very little to commend you. Being rich and famous means nothing to the ice.”

“Rolf seems happy enough to have me along.”

“Rolf is happy to have the money along. We’ve spent the last nine months desperately trying to convince the Ministry that this expedition has scientific merit and they should help defray the cost, all to no avail. We were looking into corporate sponsorship when the great Harry Potter decided he wanted an adventure in the wilds of Antarctica. And of course, the Ministry is falling over itself to fund the whole trip now. Even Rolf isn’t so easygoing that he’d bring a complete rookie to Antarctica with him, without a significant amount of money to convince him.”

Harry wanted to protest that _he_ wasn’t the one wanting to go to Antarctica; that there were good and valid reasons for the trip, but he had to keep it secret, so he focused on something else.

“What experience do _you_ have, Malfoy?”

“For your information, I skied Greenland with Luna last year and did the North Pole trip with Rolf the season before that. I’ve summered in Antarctica three of the last five years and I’ve spent some time in Siberia and Alaska as well. _I_ know what I’m doing. _Your_ lack of experience could get us killed.”

“I’m hardly defenceless, Malfoy. I haven’t been sitting on my arse since I finished my NEWTs.”

“Ah, yes. The career of the Boy Who Lived. News of it reached us even in the depths of Alaska. A part of me was sorry I missed seeing firsthand the reaction of the masses to the fact that their hero had feet of clay, but even just reading the headlines in the _Prophet_ cheered me. ‘Harry Potter’s greed and selfishness kills his best friend.’ That one I framed.”

Harry’s fist was swinging with no real input from his brain, and it connected with Malfoy’s nose with a satisfying crunch. Those silver eyes stared in amazement for a moment, before he lunged forward in a tackle that took them both to the floor. There was something cathartic about fighting with Malfoy; all the anger he hadn’t been able to express back home was let loose with a viciousness that surprised him. And for all Malfoy’s vaunted time on the ice, he had not been trained to hunt and bring down Dark Wizards, so his punches and kicks did not have the power behind them that Harry’s did. Of course, Malfoy was a Slytherin and a solid knee to his tackle ended up bringing Harry down. They were staring at each other, contemplating their next moves, when a voice interrupted them.

“I’m glad you got that out of your system.” Rolf was leaning casually against the door. Luna peered over his shoulder, looking mildly appalled. “It’s going to be sixteen months in close quarters, so you’d do well to get past your differences now. The weather’s cleared, so we’re going to the top of the mountain first thing tomorrow. Get some rest.”

As Harry set out the many layers of clothing needed for their training trip, something Draco said floated back to the top of his consciousness. Malfoy had been in Antarctica three years in the last five. Hermione had said the melting had started accelerating five years ago. Maybe the answer to the riddle was a lot closer than he thought.

 

**October 19, 2019: If Greenland taught me anything, it was about how the cold crept in, like a Tentacula vine, tendrils seeking out any crack through which it could make its assault…**

Three days later, Harry trudged back into their shared living space. He was still covered in clothing from head to toe; bright orange snow gear formed the outside layer and there were another three layers underneath, all some form of microfibre or moisture-wicking material that meant that, if he sweated while trekking through the snow, the sweat was less likely to freeze when he stopped moving. Absolutely every muscle in his body ached and all he wanted to do was collapse in a heap in the warmest place there was. He was considering Apparating to Tahiti.

"I'll never be warm again," he said, as he collapsed into the armchair.

"Not true, Harry. All you need is a warm bath - it will help with the muscles as well."

"Luna's right," said Rolf. "You can take the first bath."

He gratefully sank into the warm water and relaxed his head back against the tile. The bath was full of epsom salts and a potion that Luna said would relax his muscles, and he let the eddies move around him and ease the ache that felt bone deep.

He hated to admit it, but Malfoy was right. The ice was completely unforgiving and he might have to kill Hermione for forcing this on him. The muscles used for skiing were completely different to those he used to jog or lift weights, which was the exercise he got at home. And the never-ending trudging of cross-country skiing was not something he'd ever had to experience before. An Auror's job was most often many hours of mind-numbing boredom, followed by five minutes of absolute terror. Even at his most fit, he never had to have endurance; he'd never had to stay on his feet and keep moving for hours at a time.

And according to Malfoy, this was nothing compared to what they'd actually be doing in Antarctica.

The cold in Greenland wasn't as intense as it would be as they moved into the interior of the frozen continent in the south, but Rolf forced them all to work without magic, going so far as to take their wands away from them as they practiced various manoeuvres across the snow. Harry had been sent tumbling into a crevasse and had to climb his way out with his ice axes. He'd had a kite attached to his harness and had been dragged behind it at great speeds until he crashed into a mound of snow. And he'd been dragged into a hastily erected structure and told to stay silent, as his three companions stared at the snow-white bear moving across the ice.

"Are they magical?" he'd asked and Luna shook her head minutely.

It was Malfoy who had taken his hand and yanked him to the front of their hiding spot, shoving Omnioculars into his hands. "Just because there's no magic the way you understand it, doesn't mean there isn't magic there." Harry looked to where Draco was pointing and saw two miniature polar bears following the one he'd seen first. They happily frolicked in the snow, the mother allowing her children to climb all over her in a way that reminded Harry of when his own kids were younger. As the three animals moved out of view, Harry noticed that all four of the team had broken into smiles.

Of course, Malfoy had to make Harry feel like an idiot, as he pointed out the little scene of family bliss.

He hadn't noticed any magic across the frozen landscape. Over the years, Harry had realised that his ability to sense magic was higher than most, and it had come in handy during his years as an Auror. He hoped that the ability wouldn't fail him in the cold; if it was Malfoy causing the problems, then he needed to be able to sense the git doing whatever it was he was doing.

As he dozed off in the rapidly cooling bathwater, he pushed the wonder he'd seen in Malfoy's eyes far from his mind.

 

  


Chapter 2  


**October 20, 2019: Greenland didn't take away any of my doubts – would I be able to keep up? Would I freeze to death? Would I be murdered in my sleep by a teammate?**

The next morning they were heading back to the UK. Luna was staying in Greenland for more research into Arctic Wrackspurts and Rolf was leaving for Australia.

"I'll see you both in December," he said, shaking their hands. "Drake, see what you can do about getting him fit while you're both in London."

Harry saw the hint of a sneer on Malfoy's face, but chose to ignore it in favour of hugging Luna.

"I'll see you in London soon, Harry. We'll head down to Australia together." The group were flying to Antarctica from Tasmania with the Australian government's team; their gear to overwinter would go by ship. Harry had a list of what to prepare for his crates, along with instructions about using shrinking charms sparingly, as the amount of gear had to be believable to the Muggles they would be living with.

"Drake?" he asked Malfoy, as they stepped out of the Floo in Oslo the first step in their long Portkey journey back to England.

"That's not my name, Potter. It is a horrible Antipodean habit that I allow Rolf to get away with because he's resistant to the befuddlement charms that would make him forget he wanted to do it. Didn't you notice he calls Luna 'Loo' despite the fact that it is a name for a toilet? You'll be Har before too long."

"So, I shouldn't call you Drake?"

"My friends call me Draco. You can call me Malfoy; it's worked well enough for the last thirty years."

Their Portkey was waiting and it took only seconds for them to be standing in Copenhagen waiting for their last connection home. However, there was a delay in Copenhagen and so they went to find coffee while they were waiting.

"You could call me Harry, you know." Making nice was a common interrogation technique. Harry had never done undercover work - he was too well known - but he'd certainly made people trust him previously, enough to spill their secrets. If he could get Malfoy to let his guard down, he might be able to avoid a trip to Antarctica and stop whatever was causing the acceleration of the earth's warming right now. "We'll be living together for a year or more. We could try being friends."

Malfoy looked up from his cup, his face losing the expression of bliss that had come over it as he'd inhaled the scent of coffee. "You continue to look at me like I'm something to scrape off the bottom of your shoe, _Potter_ , and you made your opinion of my sexuality abundantly clear. We're not friends. Nor are we ever likely to be."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but a voice drifted over the room, telling them it was time to return to London. He kept his mouth shut, but the anger kept growing at how _wrong_ Malfoy was about him.

When they got to London, he grabbed the blond's arm and spoke directly into his ear. "I don't know where you got the impression that I cared where you like to stick your prick, Malfoy, but I really don't. I'm bisexual and had more than a few experiences with men before I settled down. So accuse me of being a prat, accuse me of being stupid, but _don't_ accuse me of being homophobic."

Then Harry Apparated away, before he could see the look of astonishment on Malfoy's face.

 

Hermione was waiting when he got back to Grimmauld place and he was glad, because he wanted to talk to her about Malfoy.

"Did you know that Malfoy was on this expedition with me?"

"Is he?" she asked, opening her arms wide for a hug. He knew that sort of reply - she'd known and hadn't told him.

"Didn't you think I'd be more likely to say yes if I thought Malfoy was the Evil Weather Wizard?"

"Evil weather wizard? Sounds like that icy villain from Batman. Dr. Freeze?"

"I don't know - I never saw it."

"Hang on, Harry. Malfoy, the weather wizard?"

" _Evil_ Weather Wizard."

"You're not back to that again. Honestly, the obsession was bad enough when you were sixteen. At forty, it's just a bit pathetic."

"Need I remind you that I was _right_ at sixteen. He _was_ trying to kill someone and he _did_ let Death Eaters into the school."

"That was over twenty years ago. He's a very respected scientist now, and working hard to mitigate the effects of global warming."

"Climate change."

"You know what I mean. Draco Malfoy has doctorates from Muggle _and_ wizarding universities and he's been trying to raise the profile of the issue in the wizarding world for years. He hasn't had much luck here, due to his past, but in the States he's very well-respected."

"Sounds like a perfect cover to me."

"Harry, listen to me. You need to let this go. It isn't Draco."

Harry paused for a moment, looking at the earnest expression on her face. "Is this a wild goose chase?"

She took a step back. "A what?"

"A wild goose chase. An excuse to get me out of the country. Off the continent. A way for me to be out of the public eye for a year, so that they'll forget about me and Ron and what happened." A thought struck him and he felt his eyes widen. "Are you hoping that something will happen and I won't come back? I know accidents happen over there."

"No! Harry, no." She took his hands and dragged him to the couch. "You think after losing Ron, I'd really want to lose my _other_ best friend? I don't blame you for what happened to him. I don't understand what happened, but I'm sure it wasn't your fault. And the last thing I want is for you to die in Antarctica."

"It was my fault," he said, almost too softly for her to hear. He couldn't tell her why, couldn't explain the horrific oversight on his part, the way he had missed that something was wrong. If he'd been paying attention, he would have known, could have stepped in.

"You could never kill your best friend, Harry, so don't even try to shoulder the blame for this one. One day you'll tell me what happened, and until then, I'll stand behind you."

He knew he'd never tell her the truth; he didn't want her to see Ron differently, so he changed the subject instead. "So, not a wild goose chase?"

"The truth is, that your power and your skills for detecting magic are likely the only thing that can figure this out. I don't like to ask, I know you've already given so much, but I can't think of anything else."

"If I'm the only hope, then you need to let me do my job. This is what I trained for, Hermione, and Draco has a history of being an evil git."

"Yes, a _git_ , Harry. Not a megalomaniac."

"A lot can happen in twenty years." They stared at each other until Hermione looked away. "Plus, the timing is right. You said everything accelerated five years ago, in 2014. That was the first summer Malfoy spent down in Antarctica." Luna had been kind enough to talk about everyone's experience, so he had a good idea of Malfoy's history with polar exploration.

"Harry, I'll let you do your job, but please _do_ it. Don't get so blinded by Malfoy that your mind isn't open to other options. I'm almost positive that he's not behind this, which means that there's something else dangerous down there that you _must_ be wary of."

"I promise, Hermione. I'll keep my mind open."

"Good. Now tell me about Greenland. Is this everything you're taking? Do you need help with anything?"

Harry laughed and told her everything that still needed to be prepared, knowing that she'd start making lists until he was too organised to see straight. As she got out her quill, he began telling her about musk ox.

 

**October 22, 2019: There was training to do in London as well. It was… interesting…**

Two days later, the young couple he was showing through Grimmauld Place kept staring at his forehead as if they couldn't believe he was really Harry Potter. He resolved to arrange for a real estate agent to take over the leasing process, because he couldn't take another day like today.

"So, this is where you sleep, Mr Potter?"

"Yes," he said, with the very little patience he had left. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, the woman had her cheek pressed against his pillow and he wondered briefly if he was going to have to burn the bed, mattress and all, to be able to sleep on it again. Before he could let himself imagine what she'd make of it, he directed her attention to the ensuite and kept his back to the door while she and her husband looked around the small room.

If the townhouse wasn't so obviously magical, he'd have rented it to some Muggle university students.

He looked up as an owl tapped on his window.

 _Potter,_ the letter it carried read.

_Any misgivings I have about your presence on our expedition have been dismissed by the team leader. Since I don't want your ineptness killing us and leaving us to a frozen grave, I have decided to get you fit. Meet me at Pall Mall at 3pm. Bring your harness and wear something that can get dirty._

_DM_

He checked his watch and groaned. It was typical of Malfoy to not give him enough time to get there. He had ten minutes.

He turned to his prospective tenants and smiled. At least, he now had a reason to kick them out of his home.

He arrived at Pall Mall thirteen minutes later, dressed in old sweat pants and a bright orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt. Malfoy seemed to be wearing very expensive Muggle work-out gear, which hugged a body that even Harry had to admit was fit, despite the ever-present beer gut.

"You're late."

"I only got your owl ten minutes ago, _and_ I was in the middle of a meeting. You couldn't have given me more notice?"

"I only acquiesced to Rolf's insistence that you come along ten minutes ago. And your meeting couldn't have been that important, if you made it here so quickly."

Harry grinned. "It was a good excuse to end it."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but a light smile played around his lips. "Right." He turned around and Harry noticed a pile of tires and rope. "This is the only known way to get used to dragging sleds full of essential equipment through the ice. Put on your harness and we'll get it connected."

Two minutes later, he and Malfoy had tires connected to their harnesses and were dragging them through the dust of Pall Mall. It was harder work than he'd been ready for, but in this, Malfoy was right - he needed to be fit enough for the mission ahead. After an hour, they finally stopped and he looked across at Malfoy. And laughed.

"What?"

Harry shook his head, but tried to capture the image in his mind. The dust had mixed with Malfoy's sweat and there were streaks of mud lining his arms and chest, and the lower part of his legs were almost caked. Even his hair was not immune, the streaks of dirt looking something like really, really bad highlights where his fingers had pushed the hair back out of his eyes.

"You look just as filthy as I do, I'll have you know."

"Yes, but I've never seen you looking like this. Even after three days on the snow, you weren't _dirty_."

Draco only hmphed, but a corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

 

**November 5, 2019: Of course, it's leaving family that's the hardest part of a trip like this…**

Two weeks and many hours dragging tires around Pall Mall later, and Malfoy was looking at Harry with a grudging respect.

"At least you haven't given up yet."

"I generally don't."

Malfoy didn't reply to that, just looked at him thoughtfully. "What are you doing on Sunday, Potter?"

"Going shopping for entertainment for the six months of night."

"It's not six months. And don't forget, you can share everyone else's entertainment. They have books there and DVDs and foosball, which would probably appeal to you."

"Simple things, huh?"

"Exactly. Listen, I've arranged to take Scorpius out for lunch on Sunday and I mentioned to McGonagall that you might want to see your three as well."

"Thanks, Malfoy. I suppose I do need to have that conversation."

"I'll arrange for all four to meet us at the Three Broomsticks at half twelve, and we can split off from there."

"Sure. I wonder if Gin told them about the trip."

"You mean you didn't talk to them beforehand?"

"It was kind of a last minute decision."

"Shit, Potter. You don't decide last minute to go on a year-long trip to one of the least hospitable environments on earth. You should have talked it through with them first."

"My relationship with my kids is a little … strained at the moment."

"Don't forget that the ice doesn't care who you are. Get things right before you go. There's still a chance you won't come back."

 

Harry and Malfoy walked through the door of the Three Broomsticks together to find their children already waiting for them. Scorpius stood immediately and crossed the room.

"Hello, Mr Potter."

"Hi, Scorpius," he replied. The young man was a friend of Al's and had spent some time with them the summer before the whole mess had started. Harry remembered thinking that, given the kid's parents, it was a miracle he'd turned out so well, but having spent some time with Malfoy every day of the last three weeks, he was starting to understand where Scorpius got his manners and charm from. His patience and distinct lack of a short temper obviously came from his mother's side.

As the Malfoys took a table close to the window, Harry moved across to join his children by the fire.

Lily and Al both stood to greet him, giving him a kiss on the cheek and a manly hug-slash-clap-on-the-shoulder, respectively. James stayed sitting, arms crossed and a scowl gracing his normally handsome face.

"James," Harry said carefully as he sat down. He didn't get a reply. "Okay, what do you guys want for lunch? My treat, of course."

Rosmerta came over straight away and Harry ordered two mains, garlic bread and an extra bowl of chips for the table.

"That's a lot of food, Dad."

"Yeah. That's part of what I needed to talk to you about."

"You're telling us that you're fucking Draco Malfoy?"

"James! Firstly, watch your language, and secondly, where the hell did you get that idea?" Harry cast a silent _Muffliato_ , hoping to avoid rumours of his alleged affair hitting the _Prophet_. Thankfully, the Three Broomsticks was reasonably quiet today.

"Well, you came in together, and he's talking to Scorpius at the same time. Or maybe you've just decided to actually go evil, instead of sticking with petty theft. I bet that _Slytherin_ could help with that." He spit out the epithet like he was saying _Death Eater_.

"Slytherins aren't all evil, James." Al adjusted his green and silver tie. "So, shut your fat mouth."

"Can we just have a quiet lunch?"

"No, Dad. Because first you killed Uncle Ron and now you've replaced him with Draco _fucking_ Malfoy!" James had stood up at the end of his tirade, leaning over the table, clearly trying to intimidate.

”James Sirius Potter, you will sit down and you will SHUT UP!"

The silence in their little family circle seemed deafening after that and Harry dropped his head to the table. He'd never spoken like that to his kids, and a large part of him was reminded of Vernon Dursley. He had a horrible feeling that he would never repair his relationship with his eldest son.

He raised his head and noticed that there were stares being directed towards them; people might not be able to hear what they were saying, but it was clear the Potters were arguing. Harry met Malfoy's concerned eyes and looked away quickly. That left him looking at Lily, who had tears tracking down her cheeks.

"Oh, Tigerlily. Don't cry." He squeezed her hand and she tried to smile for him, but did not do a very good job. "I need to talk to you all about my plans for next year."

At that point, they were interrupted by the arrival of their food. Harry sighed before picking up his fork. He had to eat it, but Merlin only knew how he'd manage to swallow it past the lump currently lodged in his throat.

"Guys, I'm going to spend next year in Antarctica."

"We know. Nice of you to tell us before the media."

"What?"

"It was in today's _Prophet_ , Dad." Al slid the paper over to him. "We were just reading it when you arrived."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you myself. I don’t even know how they got hold of the information."

"Do you have to go? I don't want you to."

"I'm sorry, Tigerlily, but I do have to go. There's something I have to do down there."

"What? Hide?"

"If I were hiding, James, I wouldn't have come down today, would I?"

"You had to, didn't you? The great Harry Potter must keep up appearances." With that, James pushed away from the table.

"James!" Harry called, but his son didn't stop.

"Do you want me to go after him?"

"No, Lily. I'll find him after we've eaten lunch. Tuck in. And ask any questions you have."

Harry really didn't know where James would have gone when he left stormed out of the Three Broomsticks, but he hoped that as they walked around Hogsmeade, he would spot his son.

He accompanied his two younger children to Honeydukes and quickly gathered up handfuls of his favourite sweets.

"That's not a healthy meal, Potter."

"My list says to take things I like to snack on."

"You realise that your metabolism slows down when you hit forty."

"Hermione tells me that for wizards it's closer to fifty-five, so I still have another fifteen years of eating like a teenager. Besides, you packed away two meals at lunch, just the same as I did."

Malfoy grinned at him and started placing large quantities of his own favourites into a basket. Harry noticed there was a huge quantity of sugar quills.

"So," Draco said. "Teenagers."

"Yours still seems perfectly happy and well-adjusted."

"So does Albus. I'm guessing we both have more tantrums to look forward to."

"I don't even know where James stormed off to or whether apologising is the best thing here. He was the one acting like a spoilt brat."

"And you're the adult, Potter."

"You're right." Harry looked at Albus and Scorpius, their heads bent together over the cockroach clusters, but he wasn't really seeing them. He was seeing himself and Ron at his age, and remembering the stares he'd gotten every time he walked into this place. "It was probably hard being the eldest son of Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World. I imagine it's harder still being the son of Harry Potter, villain who got his best friend killed."

Harry saw something that looked suspiciously like sympathy cross Draco's face and he turned away.

"Dad, can I have some peppermint tulips?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Albus, you make your decisions as well, we need to get going."

Harry arranged to have his selections sent to Grimmauld Place and followed Al and Lily out the door, holding a bag of chocolate wands for James.

"Do you think your brother went back to the school?"

"He's probably at the Shrieking Shack," Lily said. "That's where he's been going to think."

"How the hell does he get in there?"

"There are secrets that have been passed down from Gryffindor to Gryffindor since time immemorial, Al."

"Or at least since the tree was planted the year your grandfather started," Harry put in. "Malfoy," he called out to the man walking just ahead of him. "Do you mind if these two walk with you? I need to make a slight detour."

"No problem. And I'll see you tomorrow at two."

Harry gave the kids a hug and hid his smile as Scorpius shook his hand before he turned away.

"Dad!"

"Yes, Al."

"Are we going to see you before you go?"

Harry glanced at Draco. "Yes. We'll get you all down to London to wave us off. Okay?" Draco said.

"Thanks, Mr Malfoy," Lily said, throwing her arms around him. Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling as Malfoy patted her back in a horribly uncomfortable manner.

"Lily, stop throwing your arms around strange men. It's uncouth."

"Shut up, Al. Mr Malfoy didn't mind."

" _I_ mind. Your behaviour reflects on me. Bye, Dad!" he threw over his shoulder.

Draco gave him a small wave as they walked off into the distance, Scorpius seemingly fascinated by the squabbling siblings. Harry gave a sigh and took the path to the Shrieking Shack.

He found James sitting on a threadbare mattress in the small bedroom. He was throwing bits of wood at the already shattered glass in the window, attempting to get the last of it out of the frame.

The floorboards creaked under his feet and he saw James' shoulders tense, but he didn't turn around.

"Feeling any better?" he asked. James didn't reply. "I'd apologise for the _Prophet_ knowing about this before you did, but I don't think that's what you're angry about, is it?"

Again there was no reply, so Harry stepped into the room and sat down next to his son, picking up a scrap of the bed that had been ripped apart by a werewolf many years before. He tossed it at the window, enjoying the sound of the tinkling glass.

"I don't know that I've ever apologised about your Uncle Ron, or for the mess it all caused - your mother and I breaking up and the family all over the papers. I didn't know how to talk about it. I still don't, really. But I _am_ sorry."

"How is sorry good enough? How does it bring back Uncle Ron or get you and Mum back together."

"It doesn't."

James threw a scrap of wood and shattered the sole remaining pane of glass. "If you can't fix it, why are you even bothering?"

Harry's heart clenched at the pain in his son's voice and he wished that he could tell the truth of what had happened. He wished that the truth wouldn't bring even more pain over the choices Ron had made that led to his death. But even if he bared his soul to James today, it wouldn't get rid of any of the pain, because Ron would still be dead, and Harry would still be the one who missed all the signs.

"James, something you have to understand is that not everything can be fixed. No matter what I say to you, no matter what the truth is, it will not bring Uncle Ron back. Even magic can't bring people back from the dead."

"The truth? Are you trying to tell me that the rumours from the paper aren't _the truth_?"

"You've been a member of this family long enough to know that the _Prophet_ prints very little truth."

"If they were lying, you would have told us; you would have told them to print a retraction. You have before."

"Life isn't always that simple, James. I know it seems like everything is black and white when you're fifteen, but very little is. There are many shades of grey."

"How about you don't speak to me like I'm a child?"

"If you want to be treated like an adult, you need to act like one."

Another scrap of wood went through the window, this time missing any glass.

"I can't make you forgive me, James. Nor can I make you understand. But I'm leaving before the end of the month. I'll be gone for a year and I'd like us to at least be talking before I go."

"We are talking. And you're running away."

"There's more to it than that, and I wish you'd trust me. Clearly I can't force trust, but we're still family, James. I love you."

The glass tinkled again and Harry recognised that stubborn set to his chin. Ron always looked like that when he was angry about something and wasn't going to listen to reason. And at least during the Triwizard Tournament, Harry was allowed to tell the truth about what was happening. Unfortunately, James had had that set to his chin for over a year now and his stubbornness seemed to know no bounds.

"Fine. You have to go back to school. Malfoy already took the others back."

"I don't see why."

"Because if you don't, you'll be in detention and you'll lose House points."

"I don't care about the stupid House Cup."

"How about, I'll tell your mother."

"She's on my side."

"When it comes to you doing the right thing, your mother and I are on the same side - the side where you do the right thing. Get up and go to the tunnel and go back to the castle, before I decide to fill the damned tunnel in."

This got James moving and he brushed past, knocking Harry's shoulder with far more force than necessary before running down the stairs. Harry heard the trapdoor bang shut and he slumped against the wall. There were no easy fixes to this one. It was possible there were no fixes at all.

 

At two o'clock the next afternoon, he found himself waiting for Malfoy at Pall Mall. When the git hadn't turned up by five past, he decided to exercise without him, connecting the harness to himself and starting to run down the mall. His brain was full of the conversation with James yesterday and the anger he felt at Ron for putting him in this position, where he couldn't tell his friends and family the truth.

He could hear himself growling as he ran and people were stepping back and staring as he passed. He pushed himself harder than he had yet and he could feel the sweat and gritty mud dripping down his back. Somewhere around the fourth lap, he began an all-out sprint, trying to out-run the tears he felt burning behind his eyes. He stopped at the far end of the mall and bent over his knees, tasting vomit at the back of his throat.

He fell to his knees retching, but nothing actually came out. A warm hand pressed to his lower back, and there was a bottle of water in front of him.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Shall I take you home?"

"No. You still need to train."

"I can do without for one day." Draco pulled out his wand and Harry heard him murmur a Notice-Me-Not charm before he Apparated them both away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Draco asked, when they arrived at Harry's entry hall.

"How did you know where I lived?"

"I was looking for a townhouse for Astoria and a real estate agent showed me this one. Even if I didn't recognise the pictures, there are only two members of Britain's magical community that would have piles of polar exploration gear in their store room, and I know where Luna lives."

"For Astoria?" Harry asked as he walked into the bathroom to wash the dirt from his face and hands.

"Yes. She's decided she wants to be closer to London because Apparating or the Floo are such a chore." Harry could practically hear Draco rolling his eyes. "I passed on this place for her. Did you know the real estate agent kisses a picture of you each time she leaves?"

"For Circe's sake!" He walked out of the bathroom wiping a towel across his bare chest and noticed Draco staring. "How does she feel about you going away?" he asked, grabbing a nearby sweater to hide his embarrassment.

"I'm quite sure she doesn't care. We've been divorced since Scorpius' first year."

"Oh. I remember Al saying something about that."

"I'm glad Scorpius has such a good friend. I think it was hard on him, though he must have always known there was very little love between his mother and I."

"So why are you looking at townhouses for her?"

"Oh, part of the divorce settlement. I pay for her living arrangements. If I don't come along, she'd end up in a penthouse apartment on Mayfair." Draco looked at him. "Feeling better?"

"Not really."

"Want to talk about it?"

"I'm sure it won't help. Nothing you say can make my son stop hating me."

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you."

"He takes every opportunity to tell me he does."

"He's fifteen. I remember I hated my father at fifteen."

"Oh?"

"Unlike James, I never got an opportunity to tell him, since he was in Azkaban."

"Oh." Harry looked at his hands. "I'm not going to apologise for that."

"Why would you? It's hardly your fault he decided to follow a madman." Harry looked up at that and was surprised to see a sad sort of smile gracing Draco's features. "At some point, I realised that even if he was an idiot, he was my father and I loved him. You're hardly the same sort of evil that he was, so I'm certain James will come round as well."

"Thanks." They were silent for a moment, and Harry wondered what the hell he was doing talking to Draco Malfoy about something so personal. Still, he couldn't stop the words that came out of his mouth. "Would you like a drink?"

"No. Thank you. I have to go look at another apartment with Astoria." Harry suddenly noticed that Draco wasn't dressed to work out. Instead, he was in a three piece suit that made Harry's mouth go suddenly dry.

"You're not in gym clothes."

"Very observant. You must have been one hell of an Auror." This time, the silence was decidedly awkward. "I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have -"

"It's okay. Draco." Malfoy's eyes flew open and he must have realised that he'd said Harry first, because he smiled suddenly.

"I need to go."

"Thanks. For everything."

"No problems. Can't have you experiencing that mental breakdown on the ice."

"Of course. Completely selfish motives."

"Always. It's the Slytherin way."

That night, Harry did something he hadn't done since the divorce was final; he went to his wall safe and spoke the words to open it. Inside the magically expanded space was a document archive box of records he'd secreted home in the months before his resignation. In the box was the evidence that Ron had been taking money to ensure that a group of drug dealers - a group with ties to hate crimes against pure-bloods – were never caught. Proof that the tip offs, the missing evidence, the missing _witnesses_ , for Merlin's sake, could all be traced back to Ron Weasley, Order of Merlin, First Class, and best friend to the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry felt that familiar tightening in his chest as he flipped through the files and forced the tears away. Crying wouldn't bring Ron back. Nor would it bring his son back, or his wife, or any of the trust he used to have in people.

He wanted to rage and break things, but he was forty now, and he'd left that angry boy behind at the end of sixth year when he'd had to save the world. Nevertheless, he could hear screaming in his brain and he jumped as a picture frame exploded on his side table. He took a shuddering breath, knowing he needed to get control before he took out half the room.

The picture frame held a photo that had been taken at the end of first year. He Vanished the broken glass and picked up the slightly singed image. He stood in the middle, Ron on one side and Hermione on the other. Despite the still healing cuts on Ron's face, and Harry's own bruises, they looked young. Innocent. They didn't understand what they were going to go up against before it all ended; they were just best friends who'd fought a madman and won.

Harry stayed on the ground beside his bed for a long time staring at the picture. The only thought going through his mind was _Why, Ron? Why?_

 

  


Chapter 3  


**November 12, 2019: Of all the preparations to make prior to the trip, surgery was the one I looked forward to least…**

Harry's appointment at St. Mungo's had been pushed back time and again until he worried that he wouldn't get the appendix out before they had to leave. It was a good thing that potions and magical healing meant the procedure would involve only day surgery, and a couple of days without training.

He'd gone to see Hermione's mum to get his teeth checked and had been sent away with a clean bill of dental health. Mrs. Granger was like Hermione in a way, and she'd done her research before she saw him. She chattered on about the sorts of things that could prove problematic in Antarctica. All the stories were terrifying, from teeth shattering in the cold, to metal fillings shrinking, falling out and leaving your nerves exposed to freezing temperatures. He'd shut up and let her do whatever she pleased to his mouth.

Harry had, of course, been a patient at St. Mungo's multiple times; injuries were somewhat expected in his line of work. That didn't mean he liked the place. It was what Hermione called 'institutionalised' and reminded him of something that Muggles would have been using in the twenties or something. There were metal-framed beds and the walls were puke green, and the smell of the disinfectant charms they used on the floors was overpowering. No matter how many Muggle-born students went into the healing profession, they couldn't convince the Board of Governors that some fresh flowers or a happier colour on the wall could speed healing. The last time Harry had spoken to Padma Patil, she’d said that most people were waiting for the Board to retire before they tried again.

Besides the terrible decorating choices, St. Mungo's also brought back memories of Arthur Weasley's sojourn in the place, and the horrible sight of Neville's parents in the long-term ward, and the night the Healers tried to reverse the curse that had hit Ron, fighting desperately to save his life.

No, he didn't like St. Mungo's at all.

Still, he'd arranged for Terry Boot to do the surgery. Whether Terry believed the rumours that had been in the paper or not, the Ravenclaw in him would never allow him to do a substandard job. Harry would be as healthy as usual tomorrow, he was sure.

"Right, Harry," Terry said, walking in. "I'm just going to put you under and we'll get started."

Harry nodded and breathed deeply, so as not to fight the spell that would send him to sleep for the duration of the surgery.

When he groggily opened his eyes, Draco Malfoy was staring at him. He smiled.

"Tell me again why I'm here, Potter?"

"To take me home?" Harry's mouth felt like a Pygmy Puff had taken up residence, but he still heard a jaunty cockiness in his voice and he liked the flush that briefly graced Malfoy's cheeks.

"I meant that surely you have someone else who could take you home."

Harry shook his head, then stopped and waited for the dizziness to stop. Malfoy held a glass under his chin and Harry gratefully sipped water up through the straw. "Only Hermione," he said, dropping back to pillow. "But she'll take advantage of my being drugged."

"Granger wants to get into your pants, does she?"

This time it was Harry's turn to blush. "No. She'll ask questions knowing it's harder to lie while under healing potions."

"And you think I won't?"

Harry ignored that question as Terry came bustling in, performing diagnostic spells and checking on the scar on Harry's abdomen. Harry thought back again to why he'd asked Draco to be the responsible adult that made sure he got home safely today. He knew there were others he could have called on: Neville was still a friend, the DA had sworn they could be called on anytime for any member and, of course, Auror Brackness actually had an idea of what really happened. But the truth was, Harry had been avoiding his friends since his life went arse-up. He told himself that he was building trust with Malfoy so he could prove him guilty, but the truth was, the git would get him home safely and if he acted like an utter arse, it wouldn't leave Harry feeling devastated the way it would if one of his old friends acted like that.

"You can get dressed and head home, Harry." Terry turned to Draco with a small pouch of potions and written instructions for the next two days, which he would leave on Harry's bedside table before Apparating home, as they'd agreed. Harry gingerly pulled robes over his shoulders and thanked God that he lived in the wizarding world where wearing what amounted to a dress wouldn't be looked at askance. He really didn't feel like bending over to manage pants or trousers. By the time he'd struggled to his feet, Terry had wished them both luck with their upcoming trip, handed Draco his Floo address in case of problems, and headed out the door.

Harry and Malfoy walked to the Apparition point and Harry had relaxed, as someone else worried about getting them home.

"Into bed, Potter," Malfoy said.

Harry clung to the banister like a lifeline as he dragged himself up the stairs. Healing on magical surgery was seriously abbreviated, as compared to similar Muggle surgery, due to potions and spells which closed wounds, but that didn't mean the pain was lessened while the body healed.

"How do you feel?" Draco asked when they reached the bedroom.

"Like someone's cut me open and ripped an internal organ out of me, funnily enough."

Draco's hands were on the fastenings of the robe and he pushed it off Harry's shoulders. "Bloody hell, Potter. You couldn't put pants on?"

"Piss off, Malfoy. You don't have to look." Harry knew he had nothing to be ashamed of – he was still in damned good shape despite the angry red scar across one side of his stomach. He pulled the covers on the bed back and fell back onto the mattress with a sigh of relief.

"Why aren't you afraid of me asking you questions, Potter?" Malfoy asked as he pulled the covers up.

"Back to that? You don't know the right questions to ask. 'Mione does."

"Not afraid I'll ask you what sort of blokes you fancy?"

Harry threw back the foul-tasting potion Draco held out. "Mmm… guys like that one who chatted you up in Greenland. He was hot. He looked like you." Harry fell asleep smiling at the look of astonishment on Malfoy's face.

When he awoke, Harry was immediately aware of another presence in the room. He sat upright, wand in hand, then groaned at the throbbing pain in his side.

"Lie down, Potter. You're still not completely healed."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, settling back onto the pillows. "You were meant to just leave the instructions on the table and head home."

"You didn't even stay awake long enough to read the instructions, so I thought I'd better stay. Don't worry, I've helped myself to your food and a bed and now I'm helping myself to your equipment, which is still woefully unprepared." Harry raised his head and saw that Malfoy was sitting in the window seat with needle and thread once more in hand. "You need to take the pink and the green ones with food. The porridge is under a stasis charm; it should be warm. Honestly, how were you going to feed yourself, you don't even have a house-elf here."

"I left Kreacher with Ginny." He'd left everything with Ginny. She didn't want Grimmauld Place, which was the only reason he was still here. He knew material goods wouldn't take away the pain of losing a brother but he'd hoped it would ease his own guilt about Ron. He quickly downed the pink potion to chase away the thought that he was wrong. "You do that a lot," he said, searching for a new topic of conversation.

"What? The sewing?"

Harry nodded as he lifted a spoonful of porridge to his lips. He could taste cinnamon and brown sugar and quickly swallowed another mouthful.

"It clears my mind. It was one of the more pleasant surprises of polar exploration. A monotonous task that's almost meditative, that allows my mind to wander. You'd be surprised at the number of scientific breakthroughs I've had while plying a needle."

"Any today?"

"No. I've been thinking about other things." Draco looked back at his task, avoiding Harry's eyes.

Harry decided not to follow up on that line of questioning and instead said, "I have to piss."

"Do you need help?"

"Maybe just stand close while I stand up, just in case." Draco nodded stiffly and walked across the room. "I suppose I should put some pyjama bottoms on, as well."

"Even if you have no care for your modesty, I'd appreciate not having to see your bits."

Harry chuckled and turned on the bed, placing his feet on the floor. He bent to get the bottoms over his feet and hissed through his teeth at the pain.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, stand up." Draco knelt at his feet and dragged the trousers up his legs, knuckles running the length of his thighs.

Draco kept his eyes on Harry's feet as he asked, "Are you steady?" and Harry nodded mutely as he looked at the top of Draco's head. "Harry?"

"Yes," he said before swaying slightly. Draco's hands went to his hips and Harry could feel a slight tremble. "I'm okay now. Thanks."

Draco nodded and stepped back and Harry moved more quickly than he should have to the bathroom. He shut the door and looked down at his body. He could feel his cock stirring beneath the flannel of his pyjamas. His libido had died well over two years ago when this mess with Ron first started; now it was Malfoy who brought it back? "Fuck," he muttered and moved to relieve himself. Gathering his Gryffindor courage, he pushed the door open.

Malfoy had gone.

 

**November 16, 2019: If surgery was the worst part of preparation, a shopping spree with Luna was the best…**

Two weeks before they were due to leave, Luna turned up on his doorstep ready to shop and finish packing.

"Harry, there is no other opportunity like this to spend a lot of money and try your hand at something new."

"Something new?"

"I haven't been to Antarctica before, but Rolf says the overwintering gets boring. We scientists are going to have research to collate and things like that, but as a non-scientific member of the expedition, you'll have a lot of spare time on your hands. You should take up a hobby."

They were walking around a Muggle book store and Luna was putting book upon book into her basket. She stopped near the crossword puzzles and then put one of each puzzle book into the basket as well.

"We can share, of course. You read my books and I'll read yours."

Harry looked dubiously at Luna's basket. The novels filling it were all graced with images of men wearing kilts and not much more, clutching at women whose breasts were spilling out of their low-cut dresses.

"I'm not sure we like the same sorts of books." He wandered away to the fantasy section he favoured, picking up the entire series of _A Song of Ice and Fire_ , which he'd been meaning to get to for quite some time. Jasper Fforde's latest went into the basket as well.

"You'd be surprised what will appeal when you've read everything you brought with you." She turned to him and smiled brightly. "Now, you need a hobby, and we may as well get the books for that while we're here."

"Why do I need a hobby?"

"You'll have a whole year. You may as well learn something new. Music? Art? You could learn to embroider."

Harry got a sudden image of the insipid framed needle points of flowers that Aunt Petunia had had on her walls and shook his head. "Not embroidery."

"Let's go look at the how-to books then."

Luna picked up books for him on sketching and learning to play guitar as well as knitting and quilting for herself. Harry added some books on the Muggle science around climate change, some classics as well as the more modern warnings.

"Oh, the last thing we need to get is birthday presents."

"What?"

"Everyone in our little group will have a birthday while we're away, so we should get presents. You and Draco are in the winter, so the presents can go in the crates, but Rolf's is definitely while we're on the ice and it's likely mine will be as well."

"I have no idea what to get any of you."

"Well, you should think about it and come back. We need to go get our favourite snacks now. Rolf gave me a list, but treacle toffee is a definite for the packing, and I know he likes those peanut butter cups."

They handed over the equivalent of two month's grocery money at the bookstore and moved on to their next stop. It was so different from any shopping he did with Hermione. Luna had no list and no direction, she just wandered through shops that interested her and put things at random into her basket. Harry hoped that they were getting everything they needed to.

Harry followed Luna through lolly shops, games shops, clothing stores and music stores. In each store Harry found himself handing over money for things Luna was sure would be absolutely essential in Antarctica.

"Honestly, Luna, we're going to be in the ice for a year. It's not like this is a ten-year journey to colonise other planets."

"Do Muggles have those sorts of journeys?"

"No, they-" He sighed. It was settled; her birthday gift would be some good science fiction. "It's probably from a movie."

"Rolf told me they have somewhere to watch movies at Mawson Base. Maybe we could get this movie."

Harry had a passion for bad science-fiction movies. Luna was going to get _Rise of the Planet of the Apes_ as a start, and _Barbarella_ as well, most probably. He dragged her into a DVD shop and slipped _Avatar_ and _Total Recall_ into his basket as well.

Their next stop was a gourmet coffee supply store and Harry just stood in the centre of the shop, breathing in the scent of coffee beans.

"They have tea as well, Harry."

"No, Luna. I'm a coffee drinker."

"Okay."

She wandered off to look at herbal teas while Harry went to look at the wide variety of expensive coffees.

"Which is the most expensive?" he asked the man behind the counter, a vague idea of a birthday present for Draco coalescing in his mind as he remembered the almost orgasmic look the man had gotten over his morning coffees in Greenland.

"That would be Kopi Luwak, Sir."

"What makes this so special?" he asked. He sniffed the sample the young woman held out.

"This is cat-poo coffee."

Harry felt his eyebrows reach his hairline. He could barely squeeze out the word "What?"

"Cat-poo coffee. And don't look like that. It doesn’t really pass through the digestive system of a cat." Harry sighed in relief until she opened her mouth again. "Civets aren't related to felines at all."

"Maybe you'd better explain," he said, laughing with her.

She handed him a brochure so he could read along. "Cat-poo coffee is made from beans that have passed through the digestive tract of an Asian Palm Civet. The civets eat the berries and poop out the beans, which are then roasted and prepared as normal."

"And it tastes good?"

"Exquisite, Sir. The enzymes from the creatures strip the berry from the bean and infuse some _je ne sais quoi_ to the flavour. It also gets rid of the bitterness. That is why it's the most expensive coffee in the world."

"I'll take some." He didn't care about the flavour or the expense. He only cared that Draco would be drinking coffee that had passed through the digestive tract of some island mammal in Indonesia. "Does it come with a grinder?"

So he bought a small gift basket that included a hand grinder and a small, two-person plunger. Now he only had to hope that Draco not only enjoyed his birthday gift, but drank a glass prior to reading the little brochure the woman tucked into the basket. Luna bought mainly supplies of Damiana and St. John's Wort.

"What's that?" she asked as they walked out.

"Malfoy's birthday present."

"He loves coffee! Oh, Harry. What a thoughtful gift."

 

**November 29, 2019: The good-bye party is always strange; you're so excited to start your adventure, but how can you stand to leave the people crowded around you?**

The next two weeks seemed to speed up and between collecting a guitar, Alpaca wool for an addition to Luna's present, and a first edition copy of _The Life and Mating Habits of the Mackled Malaclaw_ , an early manuscript by Newt Scamander, for Rolf, which the man likely already had but which Hermione said was very rare, he found he had no time to worry about anything. Before he knew it, he was at Malfoy Manor at a small farewell gathering. The next morning, they would be getting an international Portkey to Hobart, Tasmania.

The only Weasley that had turned up was Victoire, and Harry imagined it was only because Teddy would not let her bow out. He watched his godson hugging Narcissa Malfoy as he arrived and was glad that the boy - man, now - had other family to go to, since Harry had let him down so badly.

"You're too deep in thought again," said a deep voice behind him.

"Funny. I seem to recall many times over the last thirty-odd years when you said I was incapable of thinking."

"Well, going to Antarctica to _find yourself_ hardly convinces me of the presence of a brain in that head of yours."

"We'll match then, because I have no evidence of a heart beating in your chest."

Harry was surprised when Malfoy laughed. "Unfortunately, your analogy falls down there. Rolf is as courageous as any act-first Gryffindor, and Luna is more than happy flying around the planet, so is in no way searching for a way home."

"You know _The Wizard of Oz_." Harry didn't bother to hide his incredulity.

"One of the first Muggle movies I saw. It was the 'wizard' in the title that attracted me first, but I ended up liking the story. About not looking for value from an external source - it's my actions that prove I have brains, or courage. Or a heart." He was looking out over the drawing room, but his eyes were further away than that. Harry wondered if Malfoy remembered who he was standing next to. "Sorry, Harry. That was a bit deep for us. Ummm... you're dumb, Scarhead."

Harry burst into startled laughter. "Sod off, Ferret-face."

They'd drawn some curious glances at the seemingly friendly interaction, but thankfully, before things became awkward, their children stepped through the flaring fireplace.

"Dad!" Lily bounded over to him and he swept her up into a hug, pleased that she was still so willing to show her love for him. Albus and Scorpius followed close behind and the two thirteen-year-olds consented to manly handshakes and shoulder pats. Harry found himself sharing an understanding smile with Malfoy. Unfortunately, James made a beeline for the buffet table and then went to stand by Teddy and Victoire. He'd bought birthday presents for all of them over the last two weeks as well and left them with Hermione. Hopefully, James would be willing to accept the gift, though a part of him thought the purchase of the latest Quidditch broom for his eldest son came under the category of 'buying his love'.

Malfoy allowed himself to be dragged off towards Astoria by Scorpius, so Harry pulled his two youngest towards a sofa and enjoyed this last time with them before he went off on his adventure.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Tigerlily."

"You are going to come back, aren't you?"

"Oh, Lily. Of course I am. What made you think I wouldn't?"

"Someone just said it was dangerous. That you could die." Her eyes flicked away from his and he followed her gaze to her eldest brother.

"It is dangerous. But Rolf and Draco have done this before. Even Luna has a lot of experience in Polar Regions. We're not taking risks and I'm not out chasing Dark Wizards. We’ll even have a radio with us that allows us to call for help from the Muggles, if we need to."

"I'm going to miss you," she said, hugging him fiercely.

Harry wiped the tears away from her eyes. "I'll miss you, too. All of you. But you'll have school, and summer with your Mum. She said she'd take you somewhere fun. And then I'll be back. And Auntie Hermione is figuring out a way for me to send letters to you and for you to reply, so we can catch up still. Promise you won't worry about me."

"I promise, Dad."

"Good." He kissed her nose. "Now, go get something to eat. I have to speak to your brother."

Harry moved across the room to where James was speaking to his cousin. He smiled tightly at Victoire, who returned the gesture, and grasped his son's elbow. "Come on, James. Let's go for a walk in the garden."

Harry propelled James towards the nearby door before he had a chance to say anything and dragged him through.

As soon as they stepped out onto the small patio, James wrenched his arm away.

"What do you want?"

"Maybe I wanted to talk to you. I am going away for over a year, after all."

"Good riddance."

"James, you can hate me all you want. No one should take away your ability to feel what you truly feel, or even to act how you wish. That's why the Imperius Curse is such a taboo in our society. But I'd like you to remember that your actions affect people besides just you."

James turned away and stalked towards the roses, peacocks scattering before him.

"Your sister is petrified I'm going to be frozen to death or eaten by a yeti, and I think your brother just misses the fact that the two of you used to be friends. Hate me, but neither of them did anything to you."

"They're on your side."

"There are no sides in a family, James. I know what ... happened... hurt you a lot, but they're trying to get through this, just the same as you are. I'm sorry. I've said it before, but I really am sorry that this has hurt you so much."

"If you were really sorry, you wouldn't have done it in the first place. If you were really sorry, you wouldn't be running away to Antarctica. You'd be staying here trying to fix things, instead of going off and trying to get yourself killed."

Once again, his son's hurt was breaking Harry's heart, and he hoped that James wouldn't walk away from what comfort he could offer. He wrapped his arms around James' shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief when James sank into his embrace. He guided them towards a small bench that was hidden from the drawing room by a rose-covered arbour. He wondered if it was his lack of any parental role models that had caused him to fail so spectacularly as a parent. He was supposed to protect his children from pain, not be the one inflicting it. James' tears eventually subsided and he pulled away to look at the boy.

"I still hate you," James said.

"I know," Harry replied, as he murmured a few spells that cleaned the tears from James' cheeks and got rid of the red puffiness of his eyes and nose.

"I don't want you to be eaten by a yeti, though."

"I'm glad to hear it."

It was the memory of his conversation with James that sent Harry back to Grimmauld Place that night. The house was packed up, all his personal belongings in storage, but his safe was invisible to anyone but him. It was still the most secure place he knew of, and he'd intended to leave the box of Ron's files right there. He walked straight to the library and spoke the password that would reveal the safe, and then the second that would open it.

He wasn't sure if the box was punishment or penance, but his plans to leave it, and the past, behind when he went to Antarctica died with James' tears. He carefully shrank the box and its contents and took it back to Hermione's with him, where it was slipped into his main crate.

"Harry?"

He spun guiltily at the sound of Hermione's voice behind him.

"Hermione. I'm just doing a final check."

"Is this the fiftieth?" she teased.

"Just the fifth, I think. I'm not you, after all."

"Yes, but I fit everything into one small evening bag, you're taking a crate."

"It will be a trunk once it's properly shrunk."

"Do you have everything you need? You won't be able to get extras once you're in Antarctica."

Harry thought about the box he'd just slipped into the crate. He probably didn't need it, didn't need to page through the papers and feel the guilt roiling in his belly, but not having the box wouldn't keep the guilt away. Yes. He nodded. He had all he needed.

"You should probably get some sleep, then."

"I will. Good night, Hermione."

He checked once more that the files were in the crate, before he followed her up the stairs.

 

With all their good-byes said the day before, it was a very small group at the International Portkey office the next morning. Harry couldn't believe they'd managed to get clothes, books, games, hobbies and favourite treats for fourteen months into one trunk each. Draco told him they'd have to unshrink everything for the trip to Antarctica to allay any Muggle suspicions.

Hermione stood between Narcissa Malfoy and Xenophilius Lovegood, looking somewhat worried. She rather abruptly grabbed his hand and dragged him to the side.

"Harry, are you sure about this? Maybe I'm asking too much."

"After a trip to Greenland, a month and a half dragging tires around with Malfoy, and spending half my fortune on novels and hobbies, _now_ you wonder if it's a good idea?" She chewed her lip in a gesture Harry had seen too many times before. "Stop worrying, Hermione. I'm looking forward to it. Besides, some space will be good for everyone."

"No getting yourself killed," she said sternly.

"You've been talking to James about the yeti." They shared a grin. "You've got their birthday and Christmas presents?"

"Yes. Do you have yours?"

Harry nodded. "And your Muggle email address. And my wand. And my new Muggle passport. I think I'm set."

"Good. Good luck, Harry."

"Thanks. Hermione," he said, suddenly serious. "I just want to thank you for sticking with me these last eighteen months. I've given you no reason to-"

"Harry. I know you too well to believe the rumours. There must be a reason for not telling me the truth, but I hope you remember that I have a right to know. So does the rest of Ron's family. At some point."

He nodded, but still felt himself frowning.

"Potter! Time to go."

Harry turned at Draco's voice, then turned to Hermione. "This is it."

"See you in 2021."

He gave her a long hug until Malfoy yelled again. He jogged over to where he stood with Luna and touched the old sock. As soon as he did, he felt the pull and they were on their way.

 

"I swear, it would have been faster travelling the Muggle way," Harry said when they finally arrived in Hobart.

"And more comfortable," Malfoy muttered.

"But we wouldn't have seen Kyrgyzstan, if we'd taken an airyplane."

"Just airplane, Luna. And as lovely as I'm sure Kyrgyzstan is, their International Portkey Office left a lot to be desired. No one who spoke English, no Portkeys going anywhere useful and not a decent bloody coffee to be had. Possibly in the entire country."

"Glad to see you finally made it," Rolf said with a grin. He held out a paper cup to Draco, who immediately pulled the lid off and started drinking. "So which non-useful place did you go to after Kyrgyzstan?"

"Kabul, which is a bloody warzone, if you can believe it." Draco went back to his coffee.

"Thankfully, there were Americans in Kabul, and we went to New Orleans from there and managed to get back on track," Harry continued.

"I'm glad you made it. We don't have much time to get ready. The weather is better than it usually is this time of year, so I've arranged for us to go on the first flight. The day after tomorrow."

"What?" Draco and Harry's cries echoed each other, though Luna looked as serene as ever.

"We'll spend tomorrow getting packed properly and then our luggage will be off to Mawson, and we'll fly with an Australian scientific team to Casey."

"Well. We'd better get some sleep now." Draco looked down at his coffee. "Except I've just had an espresso and won't sleep for at least four hours. Really wish you'd told me before you gave me the java, Rolf."

"Come on, I've got us rooms."

Harry wanted to sleep after spending the last twenty six hours bouncing around the planet, but found he couldn't. He was starting to get excited about the trip.

Rolf had a large truck parked in front of a small townhouse, and Harry ended up helping Draco unshrink their things and stack them in the truck.

"It feels like we're moving our whole lives."

"We kind of are, Potter. A year is a long time."

"We were almost a year at Hogwarts and I never needed this much stuff."

"We could get things sent to us there. Longbottom always got a second trunk from his grandmother with all the crap he'd forgotten." Draco waved his wand and another box became full-size and was carefully floated to a spot in the truck. "Once we're in Antarctica, that's it. There's a small window of opportunity to have things we've forgotten flown in with the planes from Punta Arenas or the Australian ones that go to Casey, but once we hit winter, that's it. Doesn't matter if you run out of those childish cockroach clusters you love so much, there's no getting more until we're back in Australia."

"So if you run out of over-priced hair goop, you're out of luck?"

"Yes, that's correct. But I won't run out of over-priced hair goop, as I have carefully calculated how much I'll need and packed that box there," he pointed to a rather large box at the bottom of the pile, "with all I should need and a little bit more."

Harry smiled and went back to unshrinking and stacking until his tiredness finally caught up with him and Draco had worked off his java-hit. The moon was high when they stumbled back inside and fell into bed.

 

The next day was spent at Hobart's docks. Each of them were given a crate to take things for their winter away, and the first thing they had to do was fill it. Rolf had already packed his, so he helped Luna move her boxes. Harry set about moving his own, thankful for the exercise he'd been doing with Draco. Lifting weights was one thing, but a couple of hours of constant physical labour was not something he was used to. He glanced over to see how Draco was faring and saw that he was moving at a steady pace, obviously more used to this than Harry. Still, in the heat of the Australian summer, the blond's t-shirt was stuck to his body like a second skin, the sweat dripping over his face.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Potter," Draco said and Harry flushed guiltily at being caught looking.

"What?" he asked, rather stupidly, he thought.

"The heat." Draco threw a bottle of water, which Harry caught easily. "You'll be missing it before too long."

Harry quickly unscrewed the top of the bottle and drained it. He told himself he wasn't perving, but the last year had taught him that if he couldn't be honest with anyone else, he could at least be honest with himself. And in all honestly, Draco Malfoy had a rather lovely arse.

With their belongings for the winter packed, they went over their equipment for the transverse one last time. When they were sure they had everything, Rolf took them all out for dinner, where they sat on a balcony overlooking the ocean, eating kangaroo and sipping what Draco said was a very good Australian red.

"Tomorrow's the day, lads. And lady."

"It's alright, Rolf. I can be a lad."

"I can't believe you're using the word lad. What are you? Sixty-five?"

"Or a rugby coach from a British grammar school?"

" _You're_ all British. I was trying to fit in. Now, shut it. I'm trying to do a team talk here."

"By all means," Malfoy said. "Go ahead."

"Fine. Tomorrow's the day... _losers_."

"Nice, that is," Draco murmured, to which Harry grinned. They settled down at Luna's glare.

"You know what, I don't mind. The hardest part about the transverse is this. The team. No matter how much we like each other today, after what will likely be three months on the ice with only each other for company, you're going to hate each other. Each of us will have moments we want to kill each other. It's likely we'll have moments when killing ourselves seems like a nice idea. I _hope_ that we'll be a team that has people feeling upbeat when others are distressed. That way one can help keep the others up. No matter what happens during those three months on the ice, it will bring us closer together in shared experience and at the end of it, when we reach Mawson, we'll be stronger friends because of it. For now I'd like us to remember this moment, when we're all comfortable in each other's company. We all like each other." Harry realised he did feel comfortable with everyone at the table. He glanced at Malfoy, wondering when it had happened. He tuned back into what Rolf was saying. "So, when it's day fifty, and you're looking at that face you'd like to just punch, remember this night and remember that we liked each other."

"That was a rousing speech, Rolf."

"Luna's right," Harry said. "I'm so looking forward to that morning when I want to punch you in the face."

"I want you to know, Potter," Draco said, "that I already want to punch you in the face. It's a good feeling. You'll like it."

Rolf put his head on the table. "Why did I agree to take a bunch of Poms to Antarctica with me?"

Luna looked at him wide-eyed. "But it really _was_ rousing."

 

  


Chapter 3  


**December 1, 2019: You would not think a never-ending expanse of white would be beautiful, but it took my breath away…**

The next morning, Harry woke before his alarm went off and stared up at the ceiling as the sun crept through the windows. He couldn't decide if he was scared or excited, so he decided to get up, rather than think about it too hard.

The bed next to his was already empty and when he went into the living area, he discovered a form of controlled mayhem.

"Didn't we check all this last night?" he asked as he watched his three compatriots digging through bags and sleds.

"First rule of Antarctic exploration: triple-check."

After a final checklist was crossed off and their food for the drops organised, Rolf's father piled everything into yet another truck and they headed to the Hobart airport. Once there, the favoured Auror motto came into play: hurry up and wait. The pilots were playing some strange dice game called 'liar' that he recognized from a Johnny Depp movie. Luna and Rolf were bent over a notebook talking about what creatures they were hoping to see. Draco had found a few technicians to play darts with and Harry was sitting with the members of the other scientific expedition and asking questions he wished he'd thought of before he was only hours away from leaving.

"Wiping your bum?"

"There are two options. One, use toilet paper, put it in a plastic bag and carry it with you until you get to a base you can dispose of it. Or do the ice thing."

"What's the ice thing?"

"Well, when you're going you'll dig a hole in the ice anyway. Grab a handful of the ice, use it to clean your butt, then bury the dirty ice in the snow when you fill in the hole."

"You guys are shitting me."

"Go the ice route. It's easier then carrying shitty toilet paper around with you."

"Harry, whatever these men are telling you, don't believe them," Draco interrupted.

"You don't really use ice to wipe your arse?"

"Oh, no. That's true; you definitely can. But don't do it. It'll give you haemorrhoids."

"They told me you wash by getting naked and rubbing yourself all over with ice. Is that more advice I should ignore?"

"No. That's the only way you can clean yourself while skiing across the Antarctic." The other three guys nodded their agreement.

"Why am I doing this again?"

"I'm sure that I still haven't figured it out, Potter."

At that moment the pilots stood and one of them yelled across the room. "Weather's cleared, people. Everyone needs to be on the plane in five minutes!"

 

Antarctica was impossible to describe. They stumbled out of the belly of the cargo plane at Casey Station and immediately began to unload. But as he grasped yet another box of supplies for the base, he paused to look around him. He thought it would be never-ending white, but there were rocks poking out of the snow, and a group of buildings near the ocean. A colony of penguins was also within sight, the chicks waddling along behind their parents.

"I know you're a first-timer," one of the pilots said as he walked past, "but unpack first and gawk later."

"Sorry!" Harry said and dropped the box with a larger pile. A forklift was moving around them, pulling out the larger crates and the idea of organized chaos came to him again.

Rolf was talking with the pilot and came jogging up to him, just as Harry grabbed his sled.

"Leave it. The weather's holding at Scott, so they're going to drop us off on their way back to Hobart."

The expedition Harry was joining started on the Ross Ice Shelf at New Zealand's Scott Station. Draco had to measure the changes in the ice and Rolf had heard rumours of strange happenings and wondered if there were ice sprites on the southern continent now, when they'd never been seen south of Siberia before. They planned to head south across the shelf straight to the South Pole and from there it was practically a ninety degree turn to go to Mawson Base. There were food drops planned at a number of points – more than usual – allowing them time to explore any signs of magical life in the centre of the continent. Apparently Rolf had a theory, though no one had told Harry what it was, and they were chasing evidence.

The plan had been to camp at Casey station for a couple of days, but clearly the Evil Weather Wizard wanted to lure them into a false sense of security, because they got to their starting point and set up camp on the ice shelf, so that they could have a rest before going starting off the next day.

The other three got the tents erected in quick time and Harry stood around feeling useless. He stood looking out at the ice, until he heard someone approach from behind.

"Put this on, Potter. You don't want frost-bitten cheeks on your first day."

Harry pushed the fur-lined hood off his head and pulled a balaclava and goggles on before pulling the hood back up. Malfoy tucked his hands under his arms and looked out over the ice.

"It's magnificent," Harry said softly. He wasn't lying. For one long expanse of white, Antarctica was breath-taking.

"It used to be bigger," Malfoy replied.

"How the hell can you tell? It's all ice. There's no point of reference."

"It's actually receding enough so that it's visible to the naked eye. Twenty years ago, icebergs the size of Connecticut were breaking off, then it all stabilized. Now we're back to chunks the size of Ireland at regular intervals. The actual shape of the ice has changed."

Draco looked almost pained and Harry stopped himself from saying anything.

"It's actually quite terrifying. All that fresh water melting is going to affect water levels around the rest of the world. It has the potential to affect ocean currents."

"I saw that film."

"That film was crap. Its only redeeming quality was Jake Gyllenhaal."

"Yeah." Harry felt a slow grin cross his face.

"You're hopeless, Potter." Suddenly those grey eyes were piercing his green ones. "This trip, I'm going to educate you."

 

**December 2, 2019: My first day skiing across Antarctic ice. I wanted to die…**

Harry discovered that mornings in Antarctica were leisurely. There was food to be defrosted, the day's snacks to stuff into pockets close to the skin so they wouldn't freeze solid while skiing. A schedule to sort out that included Malfoy's measurements and Luna and Rolf's investigations. Their first meal of the day was always large, to give them energy for the trek ahead. Snacks were measured out to consume during the day and another, warm meal was shared at dinner.

Before they set out Luna gathered everyone together and pushed her goggles on top of her head.

"Just stand anywhere. We'll want to remember this moment, when you're still clean shaven and smiling."

Harry stood in the middle of Rolf and Draco and was reminded of that picture of himself, Ron and Hermione at the end of first year. By the time his Hogwarts journey was over, he'd experienced more than any teenager should and had been changed in ways he couldn't begin to describe. This was a shorter journey; hopefully he wouldn't have to die before it was over. He smiled happily as Luna took her picture, and then they were off.

They skied for two hours first thing in the morning, then in ninety minute blocks with breaks in between, until eight hours of skiing had passed, then they stopped to set up their tents. Luna led for one block, but Rolf and Draco wouldn't let Harry lead until he was more used to what they were doing.

In the few minutes of consciousness that Harry had between scarfing down a bowl of stew and sliding into his sleeping bag he could only thank them, because it didn't take long to realize he was out of his depth. He was always asleep before his tent mate slipped into slumber beside him. He didn't even know who he was sharing with, though he knew they were swapping each week to make sure they didn't get sick of each other. No one could get sick of him – all he did was sleep.

It was almost three weeks before he began to get a sense of normalcy again and he only realized that his exhaustion had lessened because this was the first night the constant sunlight had kept him awake.

"I think we've broken Potter," he heard Malfoy's voice from the tent next to him.

"Harry's unbreakable." He smiled at Luna's perfect faith in him.

"We've all done this before, and had almost a year to train," Rolf added. "The fact he's managing eight hours a day with barely three months training and no experience is a testament to his strength."

"Or his stubbornness," said Luna.

"More likely it's a testament to his stupidity." Harry scowled when even Luna giggled. "Still, we were hoping to be doing twelve hours a day by now, and I'm sick of cooking his stupid breakfast."

"It's been very good of you to do so, Draco."

"I know. I'm the epitome of helpful."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"So, unbreakable? You say that because of the war?"

"Merlin, we already heard the story of the great Potter in Greenland!"

"He was hardly bragging, Drake. I don't know what you were listening to, but he talked mainly about the people who helped him. I know from the media that Harry was the one to take down Voldemort. But it wasn't a lucky shot?"

"No. I'll tell you."

Harry stifled a groan at Luna's words, but figured there was likely no stopping it. He fell asleep listening to war stories.

 

The next morning, he woke up at the same time his tent mate was stirring. He turned his head and saw a shock of white-blond hair. Draco.

"Good morning," he said and was pleased to see Draco's head whip around.

"Good morning, Harry. You're up early."

"I guess I'm getting used to it all. Can I get you breakfast?"

"Coffee, first. Breakfast comes later."

Harry nodded and lit the small stove. The warming charms in the tent meant that the snow they'd brought in the night before had melted so he could put the water on the boil straight away. The coffee came in bags, like tea bags, and was cheap and tasted bad, but Draco still held it to his nose to inhale the scent. The hood of his sleeping bag still covered his head and Harry had the sudden urge to describe him as cute. He turned away to stir sugar into his own drink.

"I'm ready to go longer," he said.

"That statement _sounds_ like innuendo, but I'm not really getting it."

"We can add another skiing leg. I think I'm fit enough."

"No need for you to be a hero, Potter. We don't need to go home at the end of summer, so there's no rush for us to get to Mawson."

"True or false: if I threw the rest of this boiling water outside, it would freeze before it hit the ground?"

"That's true."

"Why the hell do we call it summer?"

 

They had moved off the ice some time ago, and Rolf told him that they were now on the sastrugi, formations of snow that looked rather like sand dunes. Skiing up them was draining, but it was nice to slide for a little while going down the other side.

That was the first day on the skis that Harry was able to concentrate on more than just putting one foot in front of the other. They travelled across the snow in a line, one after the other, their sleds dragging behind them. Today, Harry could see piles of snow looming in front of them. He watched Draco in front of him, bulky in his layers of clothes, but still strong and sure as he picked their path out of the snow. Instead of sitting and staring into space during their breaks, he instead noticed that Draco had pulled out various scientific instruments and was making notes in a book. Rolf was poring over maps and Luna had pulled her camera out from under her jacket and was taking photos of the group as they sat.

"Why do you keep it under your jacket?" he asked her.

"The buttons freeze. Smile, Harry." He grinned and held up a hand and could hear the click of the button. "I'm glad you're looking better."

"Any sign of your ice sprites?"

"Nothing. Rolf is sure they're here; he noticed a magical signature towards the interior of the continent the first time he came, and it's grown stronger every year since, but he's had no luck finding the creature it belongs to."

"I thought you couldn't sense magic here?"

"It was when he was flying home, so he was reasonably warm."

"That's a pretty strong ability to sense magic, from so high up."

"Apparently it was a pretty strong signature."

"Is he sure it's a creature?"

"What else could it be? It's not like magical folk would choose to live on the ice and even if they did, you can't do magic."

"A particularly strong wizard, or one in an enchanted tent or home…"

"Even the charms on our tent are going to wear off reasonably quickly – that's why we only charm them for warmth, not to increase the size of the interior."

"When did Rolf first notice it?"

"Oh, about five years ago now. That was when he and Draco first met."

And with those simple words all of Harry's suspicions came crashing back.

 

**December 22, 2019: Summer Solstice and the continent began its yearly descent into darkness, though it was still impossible to tell…**

Summer Solstice coincided with Rolf's birthday that year, and both occasions called for a day of rest. They celebrated by sticking a candle in Rolf's oatmeal and singing Happy Birthday. He opened his presents, finding a large supply of chocolate and some 'good' coffee, in Malfoy's words.

"Luna said it was best to give consumable presents while on the ice."

"It is. And we don't get Honeydukes in Australia. I love this stuff!"

"There's this as well." Harry handed over the book, which was wrapped carefully in plastic and under a preservation charm that should be self-perpetuating. Rolf opened it, a look of wonder on his face. "You probably already have a copy."

"We… no. My grandfather left everything behind when he moved to Australia with my parents. They were fleeing, really. I've never seen a first edition of this one." He looked up at Harry. "This is too much."

"A thank you for having me along, despite all my inadequacies."

"Thank you, Harry." Rolf looked at the book for another moment then reached for the chocolate. "Want some?"

"You can't eat that now! You've just had breakfast!"

"Don't care, Harry. It's my birthday."

Rolf called in their first scheduled drop, so with sleds to repack and clothes and equipment to repair it didn't seem like much of a day of rest, no matter how grateful Harry was for a day off the skis. Luna joined Harry in his tent and Harry was surprised to find her grumpy and out of sorts.

"It's just the trip, Harry. I don't remember ever feeling this tired, even trapped in Malfoy Manor. And to make it worse, we're not _finding_ anything."

"Didn't Rolf see the signature in the middle of the continent? We can't be in the middle yet." She murmured her agreement. "And you never let not finding the Crumple-Horned Snorkack bother you before."

She smiled at his teasing and bent back to her mending. They both looked up when Rolf stuck his head in the tent. "Draco and I think it's time for the ice bath. We're getting stinky."

"I thought you guys were kidding."

"No such luck, Harry."

That was how Harry found himself standing in minus fifteen degree weather wearing only his camp shoes. Luna moved to the other side of the tents, well within hearing distance, but Harry noticed Rolf kept looking in her direction. Harry was glad he was making sure he knew what his team was doing. It was good leadership. Harry would have done it out of habit, but he was too cold to pay attention to anything.

He watched what Malfoy was doing, and copied that. They both rubbed ice from top to toe and then quickly lathered soap over their bodies. Then ice rinsed the soap off again. It was a balancing act to take each foot out of each slipper-like shoe and wash and rinse them. Finally there was a mad dash for a tent, towel wrapped tight around them.

Harry's teeth were chattering uncontrollably as he rubbed the towel over him. They heard the zip of the tent next to them, then Rolf was also in the crowded space, since they'd decided Luna could have her privacy in the other tent.

"How do we not lose our fingers every time we do that?" Harry asked.

"We're not out there long enough. Frostbite relies on the blood flow being compromised for an extended period of time."

"Just be glad you're travelling with wizards," said Malfoy. "The warming charms help immensely. Remember that first expedition?"

"Oh, yeah. If it was overcast, our clothes would still be frozen when we put them on the next day."

"No warming charms." Malfoy had slid, still naked, into his sleeping bag as he spoke. "No magically reinforced seams, so they ripped more often."

"No Honeydukes," Rolf said, also slipping into his sleeping bag.

"Why are we naked in our sleeping bags?" Harry asked, following their lead.

"The theory is that being naked helps conserve body heat. It doesn't seem logical, but it works."

"Why don't we sleep naked, then?"

"I do." They both said.

"Nice of you to share that piece of information."

"Sorry, Harry." Rolf had the grace to look ashamed. "I remember my first trip in the arctic regions; they all treated me like the know-nothing rookie as well."

Draco stood, still encased in his sleeping bag, and began heating water over their camping stove, breaking out the instant cocoa for their afternoon drink. Harry was looking at him move and suddenly the cold was gone and he could only think that Draco was naked under there, and had been naked under his sleeping bag every time they shared the tent. He shifted uncomfortably, wishing his newly awakened libido didn't react that way to Draco bloody Malfoy.

Harry looked around the tent, hoping for something to distract him and saw that Rolf was eyeing him, obviously trying to decide something.

"Just ask," Harry said, used to that look.

"I was wondering how you survived the war. I mean, my parents fled during the first war and never returned, but they knew about you from their friends. They talked about how much Voldemort terrified them. So how did you do it?"

"The first time or the seventh?" Draco asked drily.

"I guess I meant defeating him finally."

"It was a carefully balanced combination of having the right people around me and dumb luck."

"The right people, Potter? Really?" That was Draco again.

"You saved my life, Draco. I may have been unrecognizable, though I doubt that, but Hermione and Ron certainly weren't. You knew that was me, but you didn't rat us out to Bellatrix. Your mother saved my life as well, after Voldemort threw _Avada Kedavra_ at me. She told him I was dead when I wasn't. You heard all this at the trials."

"I –" Draco clamped his lips closed and stared into the hot chocolate he was stirring in the mugs. Harry reached for his gratefully as Rolf continued the conversation.

"How did you survive _Avada Kedavra_ then?"

"I didn't. Not really. Not the second time." Harry noticed Draco's grey eyes widening and he tilted his head so he was looking at the yellow material above him. "As a baby, there was something my mother did. Ancient magic, I don't know exactly what. But it left a part of Voldemort inside me. I can't explain properly – I made an oath – but the second time, at the battle, he killed that part of himself. I died, but only the Voldemort part stayed dead."

"You were a-" Draco's lips clamped shut at Harry's look and Rolf looked at them both curiously. Draco had just answered a long-asked question as to whether the Death Eaters knew what was keeping Voldemort alive.

"A what?" Rolf asked.

"It's very old magic. Very dark magic. It's not spoken about; in fact, the knowledge is mostly lost."

"How did you find out about it?"

"There were rumours, during the war. Dumbledore told me about them and Hermione did some research, just in case. We found mentions. Legends, really."

"But you're not going to tell me?" Rolf said.

"You'll sleep better at night not knowing. Trust me," was Harry's only reply.

They all sipped their cocoa and Harry knew that Draco's thoughts were on that last year of war and the horrors that made sleeping at night a challenge.

"That's something a day of skiing is good for," Harry muttered into his mug.

"What's that, Harry?"

"It's better than Dreamless Sleep."

"Cheers to that," Draco said and they both emptied their mugs.

 

The next day was gruelling. Despite their rest and bath, or maybe because of it, the long hours on skis dragged and Luna refused to talk to anyone. Rolf was silent and Draco was more scathing than usual about Harry's hair, choice of friends, and his ability to ski, as well as his face. Harry worried about Luna, wished Rolf would take control and snap them out of it, and generally wanted to punch Draco in the nose. Plus, his cheeks were hurting and he really had no idea why. When they stopped for lunch, Rolf suggested stopping for the day, but the idea of having to sit in an enclosed space with any of the other three made Harry's blood pressure spike, so he pushed for going forward.

"Potter, you're hardly making your face more attractive by getting frostbite."

"What?"

Harry watched Draco's pull thin fingers from his glove and one of them brushed Harry's cheek. He flinched away, surprised at the pain.

"You've let your scarf fall down or something. Didn't you notice?" Draco was fishing around in a pocket and came up with some Muggle first aid supplies. "We should be able to heal them properly when we hit the South Pole. For now, this will have to do."

Draco was more gentle than Harry would ever have expected, certainly not given the way he'd been acting up to this point, but he carefully washed the area and smoothed something - plasters, Harry thought - onto each cheek.

"Thank you."

"Someone has to save you from your own stupidity, Potter. Please try to remember the rest of us when you're being an idiot. I, for one, will not drag your sorry arse behind me on a sled."

And just like that, Malfoy was back and Harry realised that he thought about the man as two separate beings: Draco was the one who had looked out over the ice shelf with him; Malfoy called him an idiot on a regular basis. He was dealing with Malfoy now, so he knew the 'fuck off' he threw in that general direction was answer enough.

 

**December 25, 2019: We'd rested only a few days before, so pushed on through Christmas. Thank Merlin we did – our Christmas reward ended up being more than we could have imagined…**

"Can anyone else sense that?" Harry scrunched his nose. It was like a sneeze waiting to happen; he had become very familiar with it during his time with the Aurors. It could be annoying normally, as any powerful wizard could set it off, but here in Antarctica, the sense that powerful magic was close by was disconcerting at best.

"What is it, Harry?"

"I thought -" Harry paused. "Yes. There's magic out here somewhere."

He turned, feeling a little like a bloodhound sniffing something out. He stomped his feet turning southwest as he did, pointing the skis in the right direction. He set off, then stopped, turning to his companions. They were staring at him, Luna with a slight smile, Rolf looking astonished and Draco wearing that studiously blank expression that he knew so well.

"Sorry, can we - do you want to explore?"

This seemed to spur the group from their shock. "No. Of course," Rolf said. "This is what we're here for."

Draco waved his ski pole, indicating Harry should lead, so he stretched his legs, pushing forward as the sense of magic got stronger.

He stopped some forty-five minutes later on a patch of snow that looked no different from the rest of the snow. Except, now that he thought about it, the snow underneath felt strange.

"This is it?" Rolf asked.

"Look!" Everyone turned to look where Luna was pointing, and it was clear that there were flowers growing in the patch of snow.

"That's impossible." But Rolf was already skiing forward, the group following behind them.

The flowers had the appearance of large snowflakes. Each was unique, but there were six sides to them and they looked like crystal. They stood on stems of ice with delicate, frosted leaves. Draco was squatting next to them, pulling off his mitten and glove.

"This snow isn't hard packed." Draco looked up at Harry. "How could you tell there was magic?"

"It's something we're taught during Auror training. But we can only pick up very strong magic."

Draco pulled a wand from his sleeve and whispered under his breath. A complicated little wave lit the area up in a purple mist which spread out as if by chain reaction. A large area was covered, surrounding them and colouring the air into the distance until the purple light settled at their feet and disappeared.

"What do you think, Draco?"

"It's nothing that will harm us, but I don't really ... it's just a hypothesis, you understand."

"But the flowers are a manifestation of wild magic?"

"That would be my best guess."

Harry was still staring at Draco's wand. He hadn't seen a wand since they arrived on the ice. "I thought you couldn't do magic here."

"I've been investigating the effects of extreme cold on magic-users, so I have a bit of practice. But that is really a simple spell. Even done very weakly, it's the magic in the air that it draws its strength from. And there was a lot of magic in the air." Draco hadn't even looked up, he was still running his fingers through the ice. "Rolf, have you ever seen the ice like this?"

Rolf was also kneeling on the ice, and Luna was digging specimen bags out of her sled.

"Harry, help me pick some flowers." Harry undid his sled as everyone else had and made his way through the watery snow to Luna and the flowers. "I just want a couple. There are preservation charms on the bag."

He could hear Rolf and Draco talking behind him about melting in the interior, and it was bound to start sometime, but who had expected it so early and what did it mean for the future. Harry clumsily closed the bags and wondered what that little display of magic meant for his decision that Hermione was wrong and the cold would keep any wizard from performing the sort of magic needed to speed the melting. His early suspicions about Draco no longer seemed so stupid.

 

The next day, he put his head down and kept one foot in front of the other as his head space was dedicated to figuring out when Malfoy had become Draco. Even if it was only half the time, it was a worrying development. If Draco was involved with this, it wouldn't be good to think of him as a friend. And even if Draco wasn't some Evil Weather Wizard, Harry's reaction to the sight of Draco's naked body at Summer Solstice told him friendship wasn't a good idea. Friendship might end with attraction and seduction and, more than likely, getting his bloody heart broken. Draco had to stay Malfoy, and that was that.

Harry was so busy stomping along in his own thoughts that he almost missed the weak magical signature coming from the east. After so long with nothing, all of a sudden, the magic was everywhere. Rolf gestured for Harry to lead, and it was close to two hours in the wrong direction before they discovered what was causing it.

"I'd never even imagined..." Luna said beside him, and Harry had to grin at the idea there was a magical creature she'd never written about in the Quibbler.

"That's not the Lorcala penguin you were searching for?"

"Oh, no. Lorcala penguins are creatures of great beauty and grace. These are…"

Draco snickered and Rolf chuckled, and suddenly all four of them were laughing in a way they hadn't since they arrived on the ice. Harry felt the tears leaking from his face soaking into his balaclava and freezing it to his face, but he couldn't stop it.

The creatures in front of them were clearly penguins of some sort, the tuxedo of the birds familiar to them all. But the ears, eyes and nose of a house elf had never before been seen on a penguin, and as they waddled, the ears moved with the movement.

"You look pretty fucking stupid to us, too, you know!" All four of them lost it again.

In the tent that night, he asked Rolf what they were going to do about the elf penguins, as he'd taken to calling them.

"Talk to them, obviously, since they seem to be intelligent."

"The use of swear words doesn't make one intelligent," he muttered to himself. The little cretins had the foulest language he'd ever heard; even Malfoy had been impressed. "I mean, can you just leave them there? What about Muggles?"

Rolf paused his flossing to look at Harry. "They have names, Harry. That big one introduced himself as 'Huey'. That suggests some intelligence. If they don't want to hide, I guess some sort of Muggle-repelling charm would work, though who's to say that they will continue to exist. The wild magic in the air mutated normal penguins to create them. It's possible that once the wild magic dissipates, they'll cease to exist."

"Luna would be heartbroken."

"She would, wouldn't she?" Rolf got a dreamy look on his face that Harry had seen before. "She really is passionate about other creatures, isn't she?"

"Always has been," Harry said.

"And she's very pretty."

Harry just nodded as Rolf flushed and went back to flossing. "The Muggle-repelling charm?" he prompted.

"They have a natural one of sorts. Muggles will rationalise things that don't make sense to them. Out here, it's unlikely they'll be seen by many, and Luna and I will come back next summer to study them properly. For now, if we don't get moving, we won't make it to Mawson on time. And we can ask the little buggers to stay out of the way of Muggles as well." He threw the floss in their rubbish bag and turned to Harry. "Have to admit, they turned up at just the right time. I was thinking about punching Draco in the nuts, before we had that laugh."

Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face. It was good to know it wasn't just him.

 

  


Chapter 4  


**December 31, 2019: Some of us brought in the New Year by trying something new.**

Once again, they'd chosen to forego a day of rest for the holiday, trying to travel while the weather remained so wonderfully mild. Harry was meant to be sharing with Luna that week and they ate dinner and shared a nip of Scotch to celebrate the New Year in Rolf and Draco's tent.

Harry left to seek his bed early. New Year's Eve was not his favourite holiday and he was going to do his damndest to sleep through the start of the New Year. Unfortunately, his memory turned to thoughts of New Years past, like some Dickensian tale, and he found himself reliving his first New Year in a relationship with Ginny, making love in the shelter of a warming charm where they could hear their friends and family counting from the inside of the Burrow. There were New Years with Ron and Hermione, of course, he and Ron getting drunk and Hermione scolding them both. The year before his death, Ron had seemed happy. Almost relieved, like he'd lost a burden.

"I need to talk to you, mate," he'd said. "Not here; next week. When we're back at work."

After months of distance, Harry was surprised at the request and wondered if Ron had decided to confess. But the next day, they'd been recalled from their break to a raid and Ron had not walked away from it.

The sound of the zipper shook him from his memory and he pounced on it. A conversation with Luna would take him away from his memories.

"I'm still awake, Luna. No need to be quiet."

"That's good." Harry rolled over and saw it was the wrong blond hair. "They're still talking creatures and I got tired. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not." Except he did. Talking to Draco might be okay in his current frame of mind, but if he started a conversation and it was Malfoy he was talking to, he wasn't sure he'd cope.

He lay awake, acutely aware of the sounds Draco was making as he hung his wet clothes around the tent so that they'd dry before morning and then slid into the sleeping bag. Soon after silence settled in their tent, they heard noises coming from their neighbours; first a low giggle, then a deep moan and then the rhythmic and unmistakable sounds of sex.

Harry raised his eyebrows, but didn't dare look at Draco.

"I don't know where they get the energy."

This startled a laugh out of Harry. "I suppose it's one way to keep warm."

"Remind me to be obnoxiously cheerful at an obnoxiously early hour of the morning tomorrow."

A particularly delighted cry sang out. "I don't think it matters how cheerful you are, they're going to be cheerier."

"It sounds like it. Damn them."

Silenced reigned in their tent once again as the sounds of a female orgasm drifted over the Antarctic. Harry wondered if he'd be awake until the two in the next tent slept.

"So, Harry. Bisexual?"

"Really? We're going to share coming out stories?"

"If you'd ever come out, it would have made the papers. But, yes. I'll share mine, if you share yours."

"There's not a lot to tell. I took care of Voldemort, came back for seventh year, and discovered I was checking out guys' arses as well as girls' breasts. Ginny and I weren't together, so I was at liberty to explore."

"Who did you explore with?"

"None of your business," he said with a grin. "But there was a Slytherin."

"Zabini, then."

Harry laughed.

"Blaise was always a whore."

"It disturbs me that we've shared sexual partners." They shared another smile. "What's your story?"

"I used more hair product at eleven than most fifty year old women with blue rinse and a beehive. You think I ever _didn't_ know?"

"I think, given your family and background, that you must have had a hard time admitting it to people, and maybe even yourself."

"Masturbating to mental images of Viktor Krum in fourth year meant that even my seemingly limitless levels of self-delusion couldn't keep denying it. As for my family – well, I married and fathered a child. Clearly, I wasn't very open about it. But after Father died and Scorpius was old enough to realize how miserable his parents were, I decided enough was enough. Astoria said 'I know, you keep checking out my brother's arse'. Mother said, 'I know, you spend more on hair care and mani-pedis than I do'. And Scorpius just made sure I wasn't leaving because of him."

"Your friends?"

"Many of them already knew. Blaise, of course. We'd, uh, explored as teenagers. And Pansy had figured it out. They just said 'I told you so' and left it at that. Have you ever been in an actual relationship with a man, or just had fuck buddies?"

"It _is_ twenty questions tonight."

"You still married quite young. I was just curious."

"There was someone at the end of seventh. We stayed together for about two years, but he decided to marry and beget heirs. He also didn't like being with the Boy Who Lived; the longer we stayed together, the more likely it was to become public, especially since I _wanted_ to go public. The day of his wedding, I went to the Burrow for a Weasley get together and reconnected with Ginny."

"Did you love her?"

"Very much. I would have been content to stay with her for the rest of our lives, if not for-"

Draco chose not to comment on the events surrounding his divorce, which Harry was grateful for.

"Never tempted to stray?"

"Just because I'm bi, doesn't mean I'm a slut."

"I'm wondering if bi men miss a cock up their arse."

"Never heard of a strap-on, Malfoy?"

"Oh, ew. Don't need to hear about your het sex life; it's bad enough _hearing_ theirs."

They were silent for a moment, and so was the tent next to theirs. "They've gone to sleep."

"We should, too. G'night, Potter."

"Good night, Malfoy."

 

After that night, the sleeping arrangements were set and Harry and Draco fell into a routine, with Harry making coffee and Draco making breakfast, Harry packing up their tent and Draco packing up the sleds. Harry would make sure they had snacks for the day tucked into pockets beside their skin, Draco would force water down their throats at every break. And at night, they'd stare up at the light streaming in through the tent and Draco would ask a question that would lead to them both sharing a quiet story about their lives, before they fell off to sleep.

One night, Harry asked a question of his own. "How did you end up at a Muggle university?"

There was such a long pause that Harry thought he wouldn't answer.

"I didn't, at first. My father arranged a position for me at Gringotts. He thought something respectable like that would help rehabilitate the family name. I worked there for two years and they turned me into an accountant. I actually wasn't bad at it – particularly good at seeing discrepancies after years helping my father with his books – but it bored me silly. To make matters worse, I was Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater, not in Azkaban purely due to the good graces of the Boy Who Lived.

"It turned out that fame, or infamy, is a horrible thing. I couldn't stand the staring. The whispers. The nasty bullying and pranks. I know you'll say it's nothing more than I deserved, after the way I treated you and others, and perhaps you're right and it was karma teaching me a lesson, but I decided that there were other ways to learn. So I arranged for my NEWTs grades to be converted to A-levels and I applied for Muggle universities."

"And just got into Oxford?"

"No. I did some graduate work there. My undergraduate work was at Berkeley."

"Was it hard in the Muggle world?"

"Incredibly. But I was studying in America. Meals and the like were provided, and anything I didn't know got explained away as being British. At least, they were only staring at me because I was strange. Or a little slow. Nobody stared at me expecting me to hex them as soon as their back was turned."

"Why climatology?"

"You know, people used to call me the ice prince. I thought I'd figure out what that entailed." Harry could almost hear the smirk. "Why did you become an Auror?"

"Well, Minerva had fought so hard with Umbridge about me becoming an Auror, and they offered it to Ron and I without needing the tests and I didn't really have any other ideas…" He chewed on his lip as he trailed off.

"So, it was about other people's expectations. Again. What would you have done, if you didn't have to compulsively live up to expectations?"

"That's the thing. I had no other ideas. If there'd been something else I was interested in, maybe I would have pursued it, but as it was, the Aurors were there and I was good at it."

"What are you going to do now that you're not an Auror? What _have_ you been doing?"

Harry thought back to his empty life, rattling around Grimmauld Place and staring at the documents proving Ron was dirty, trying to make sense of them. Make them say something else. "Living a life of luxury off the interest on my investments."

"What investments?"

"Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is my biggest."

He heard the impressed whistle, soft as it was. "I guess you don't have to work, then. But you can't be happy."

"Maybe I'll become a philanthropist."

"You need an evil wizard to vanquish. Won't be happy without it."

"Are you volunteering, Malfoy?"

"I stopped being evil years ago. Now I'm just a little bit naughty."

Harry heard the promise of punishment in Draco's voice and gulped. "Good night, Malfoy," he said, turning his back to the blond. Malfoy's chuckle didn't help dispel his erection at all.

 

**January 19, 2020: There is actually a pole in the South Pole. It's a little surreal…**

"I can't believe there's actually a pole."

"What did you think would be here?"

"Snow. Ice. A penguin or two?" Their little group had arrived at the South Pole about an hour earlier, and had immediately been surrounded by Muggles, happily shaking their hand and taking photos of them touching the pole. Then the Americans drifted off to their breakfast and left them to set up tents on the outskirts of the base.

"The North Pole doesn't have an actual pole, but since it's all ice, it shifts more. Antarctica is actually a landmass, so they can mark it. And, of course, the Americans like to claim things." The slight smile Harry could see over Draco's coffee mug suggested that the blond liked that about them. "What's more appalling is the souvenir shop."

"There's a what, now?"

Draco looked up to the sky as the drones of an engine could be heard overhead. "You'll see." He set off and Harry trailed behind, tucking his mittened hands under his arms.

They watched the plane circle before approaching the ice runway. "They still limit the amount, but tourism has become easier in the last few years. Cheaper as well." Draco's eyes were specks of blue fire in the icy environment. "If you're going to see the South Pole, you should have to work for it. Like we have over the last two months."

"You don't think that tourism will let people see what they have to protect? Create a sense of wonder and all that?"

"Look at them? Is there any wonder there?"

Harry watched the group of twenty or so stomp off the plane and head straight to the pole, where they got their photos taken. Then they trooped inside to the warmth. From what he could overhear, there was some sort of talk for them to listen to, and then an opportunity to buy souvenirs, before they had to leave in case the weather got bad again. He turned his head as Draco began speaking again.

"It's like us with magic."

"What?" Obviously, he'd missed more than he thought he had.

"Pure-bloods and magic. We take it for granted. Don't see it with the proper wonder. Unlike you. You still light up with every spell uttered, like it's the most amazing thing you've seen. That's why you died to save it, and the pure-blood population tried to destroy it."

"I don't think anyone set out to destroy it on purpose. Not even Tom Riddle."

"Not a single Muggle set out to destroy the environment either, but there's Chernobyl and a giant pile of rubbish in the middle of the Pacific, and the ice is melting, but not a single one of them thought there might be a better way of getting here than burning fossil fuels in a giant fucking airplane."

"We came in an airplane." Harry was a little confused.

"Most of us are here for serious scientific study. And _all_ of us can see the magic in the ice."

Harry wasn't sure, and he certainly didn't want to ask as Malfoy stalked off towards the souvenir shop, but he thought that might have been a compliment.

 

"How long are we staying here?" Harry asked Rolf that night, as they bent over the cooking.

"I see no reason to stay past today. We've had a bit of a rest, but Draco gets very angry at the South Pole, so it's better to keep moving." Rolf looked towards the pole, which now stood in lonely vigil at the spot at the very bottom of the earth. "It's gotten worse. There are more tourists, it's more commercial. And I know how strange that sounds when talking about a place as remote as this."

"I think Draco just wants to shake people; make them understand what it is they're endangering with their decisions. He sees the toll bad decisions can take."

"Unfortunately, when everyone in the world is making the same decision, it's easy to dismiss it. Spread the blame around and say 'what can I do when everyone else is still making bad decisions'?"

"Yes. I think he's been there as well." Harry shook himself and turned back to the small stove in the tent annexe. "Never doubt that a small group of committed, thoughtful individuals can change the world."

"Indeed. It is the only thing that ever has," Rolf said. "Margaret Mead."

"Who?"

"The anthropologist who said that."

"I always thought it was an Albus Dumbledore original. Should have known he'd steal it from somewhere. Should I get the others?"

"Before you do, can I ask a question?" Harry nodded. "It's about Luna."

Harry waited, but Rolf stayed silent. "What did you want to know?"

Finally, Rolf looked up and Harry saw a large amount of worry in his eyes. "Is she going to break my heart?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"She doesn't seem the type for commitment, I guess. She talks about how much she enjoys being free."

"You've only just got together, Rolf."

"We've been training for over a year, so I already know that –" He stopped himself. "I just want to be forewarned, because I think there's some history there. Will she break my heart?"

Harry didn't know how to answer that. "Maybe Draco... I know he's travelled with her."

"You've been her friend since school."

Harry relented. "She was always the strongest of us, unaffected by the teasing of the other kids, and then, seemingly, the war. But we all settled down and got married. Had families. She... I think she ran away. We rescued her from Malfoy Manor and she seemed fine, but once it was over and done with, she ran and kept on running, and I know she's amazing at her job and has made some amazing discoveries - I mean, who thought Wrackspurts were real? - but it's been a very convenient way to avoid lasting attachments, you know?"

Rolf was nodding, though Harry realised he'd been rambling.

"She's always been a free spirit, and the war only made her more so. She'll never intend to break your heart, but she's broken others and I don't think anyone can hold her down and trap her."

"Enjoy it while it lasts?"

"You wouldn't want to catch any of those wild and wondrous creatures you study and keep it locked up until it withers and dies, would you?"

"Of course not. I'd still want to study it, though. Understand it."

"Some things are beyond comprehension."

 

**January 24, 2020: There is something about the ice, the monotony of the view as well as your movements, that gives the mind space to think…**

It was soon after they left the pole that Draco asked the question he'd been dreading.

"Why did you do it?" Harry didn't need to ask for clarification. "I didn't believe it at first. I mean, the Gryffindor Golden Boy on the take? But when you didn't force them to print a retraction, I had to accept the fact that it could be true. Still, I couldn't understand _why_."

"Why don't you understand?"

"Well, maybe it's just because in Slytherin, we're taught not to do anything without an ulterior motive, but there wasn't any _sense_ to it. Unless you'd suddenly decided you actually wanted to be evil, I mean. You had the perfect life, with the perfect family. You already had more money than you could ever need. So _why_?"

"Blackmail? Maybe someone had found out I was bisexual."

"If you were willing to tell me on less than a week's re-acquaintance, than you'd be willing to tell the rest of the world. Besides, you'd always take the hit yourself, before allowing the bad guys to go free. So I never understood why you did it."

"I didn't."

Some part of Harry was pleased that Draco shut up. It wasn't often he left the prat speechless. Unfortunately, he wasn't speechless, merely thinking, because it was only a minute before he spoke again.

"It was the Weasel."

"Don't call him that."

"He's the only one you'd cover up for. Especially if he died. You wouldn't want anyone to think badly of him." Harry wondered when Draco had become more skilled in reading him than his own friends and family. "I can't believe you'd be such an idiot. You'd let your marriage die, leave your kids in a broken home, just to protect the reputation of someone who was not only gone, but also _guilty_?" Draco's voice had risen with each word and Harry had to shush him so as not to wake the couple in the next tent. "Honestly, Potter, there's a point where you take a martyr complex too far."

"It's not that."

"Well, then, please explain it to me. I only see someone ruining his career and marriage for the chance to protect someone who's already sold out his own morals and gotten himself killed."

"I should have known something was wrong, Draco. He was my best friend. I mean, we'd drifted apart since I got promoted, but he should have realized he could come to me if he needed something – money, help, anything."

Harry's mind went back to that day when he'd realized something was wrong in his department. Muggle drugs had begun infiltrating the wizarding world, part of the pro-Muggle trend that had begun with the defeat of Voldemort some twenty years before and had yet to wane. Harry had an idea that they were coming from a nightclub run by a couple of Ravenclaw Muggle-borns, but their raids hadn't turned up anything. What little evidence they had disappeared. It was impossible to pin them down, but Harry thought it was just bad luck.

Then a witness was found dead and Ron's partner was in his office, telling him that someone was on the take. Six months of investigation and observation told him that it was Ron. It could only be Ron. But he couldn't bring himself to confront his best mate and have it end up in the _Prophet_. He didn't want to break Hermione's heart, or Molly's.

So he kept quiet. Told himself he needed to gather more evidence, but he was really hoping Ron would finally come tell him. _Talk_ to him. When Ron said they needed to talk that New Year's Eve, Harry thought his Christmas wish had come true, just one week late.

Two days later, when the call for the raid came in, Harry tried to get Ron to stay home. Said there was no need for both of them to go in to the office on their holidays, but Ron had insisted on going. To this day, Harry didn't know what went wrong. They were watching quietly, waiting for the signal to go in, when one of the men Levitating boxes inside had turned and looked straight at them. Five seconds later, curses were flying. They took cover together, but something came from the side, something they'd never seen before, something that left Ron bleeding heavily and writhing in a pain that not even the strongest potion could abate. Something that left him screaming in agony, until it finally took his life.

"I'm sure Granger told you that the only one to blame is the one who threw the curse," Draco said, pulling his mind back to the present.

"Yes." Harry felt a wry smile twist his face. "Like I'm sure Voldemort has no blame to shoulder for the actions of his followers."

"They - _we_ \- could have chosen not to follow him."

"That doesn't alleviate the blame of the person giving the orders. And in this case, Ron was my employee, as well as my best friend. If he wouldn't talk to me, then I should have taken him off active duty as soon as I was suspicious. I failed as both leader and mate."

"You take too much on, Harry."

"Yes. So I've been told."

 

The next few days, the skiing was hard. Harry had a little iPod, like the rest of the team, that he listened to as he skied. Hermione had bought it and filled it with music and audio books and even some messages from Albus and Lily. Thankfully, she filled it based on his running playlist, so it had all the music he liked to work out to. Things like _Eye of the Tiger_ and _It's my Life_ and everything by Metallica. Unfortunately, even turning it on full and letting the beat reverberate through his brain wasn't enough to take his mind off of Ron. Harry even tried some of the audio books, but discovered Hermione had filled it with 'classics' that she thought he should read some day, rather than anything he might actually like.

After a day and a half, he switched the damned thing off and kept moving forward, feeling his anger growing with each slide of the ski.

In the tent that night, Harry turned to Draco and said, "Make it a fun question tonight. No deep and meaningful discussions."

"Why don't you ask me something, Potter?"

"Okay." As he thought, the familiar sounds of lovemaking drifted over the ice and he had his question. "How can you listen to _that_ every night and not want a good wank? Aren't you getting frustrated, after so many months?"

"Why, Potter? Are you offering to relieve my frustration?"

Harry smirked. "I'd have you up against the wall and moaning my name in a second, if I didn't think the tent would collapse."

Draco stared for a moment, then let out a bark of laughter. Harry watched as he freed his arms from the sleeping bag and took the smack in the face with a pillow with good grace.

"How long have you had these tent fantasies, Potter? Is this something new?"

"Ever since I saw _Brokeback Mountain_. I thought that's what everyone did when stuck in a tent for long periods of time with a hot male."

Draco snorted. "Yet another film where Jake Gyllenhaal was the only redeeming feature."

"What do you have against Heath Ledger?"

"He was blond. I realize that there's no blond as sexy as I am, so I rarely bother paying attention to them."

"Right." Harry smiled. This was exactly what he needed.

"In answer to your original question, unlike you, I am not a mindless barbarian, controlled by animal lusts and my penis. I can control myself."

"Ah, libido problems now that you're nearing forty. I've heard it happens." He grinned as the pillow hit its target yet again. "Well, sharing a tent with a handsome fellow like you, is it really a surprise that I have more difficulties?"

"No. I do understand your difficulties. I'm constantly surprised I don't wake up to find you humping my leg."

"Maybe tonight, Draco."

"Wasn't an invitation, Potter. Now shut up, and go to sleep."

 

**February 11, 2019: Since I first discovered a magical world existed, I've been constantly amazed at what wizards could accomplish; seeing the magic nature can produce was another eye-opener altogether…**

By the time Harry next felt the hint of magic moving across his senses, the group had become used to his bloodhound trick. His whistle echoed across the snow and when he motioned towards the east everyone turned their skis without hesitation and began to follow him. The magic was weaker than it had been the other times and it was only half an hour before he was stopping.

There was no need for a spell from Draco; the flittering lights darting around them made it clear that they'd found the right place.

"Ice Sprites!" Luna cried, and at the sound of her voice the lights zoomed straight towards her, buzzing in circles around her.

"They remind me of fairy lights on Christmas trees," Harry murmured.

"A distant relation, yes." Rolf skied to Luna and the Sprites now buzzed around him as well, seeming to push the pair closer together. Harry smiled at the blatant delight on Luna's face as they started to alight on her hands and the adoration on Rolf's face as he looked at her. They moved together, accommodating their skis with practiced ease and Rolf pulled their scarves away and pressed a kiss to her lips. Their obvious joy in each other set Harry's heart aching for what he didn't have and he quickly looked away to give them their privacy.

Draco was staring at the Sprites and Harry noticed he didn't have the same look of delight on his face as the other two. "What's wrong? Isn't this what Rolf was hoping to find?"

"He might have been, but I wasn't."

"Why not?"

"Ice Sprites don't live in the South Pole; the climate is wrong for them. They may like ice, but Antarctica is really a desert, with no rain falling. The Ice Sprites turn water to ice and won't live without it. Which means that Antarctica has warmed enough for us to get some precipitation at least." Some of the Sprites had flown over to flit around their heads. "As delightful as the creatures are, they are not a good sign."

It was easy to hear the worry in Draco's voice, but Harry didn't know how to alleviate it. He decided to ask a question; that way Draco would get infuriated at his idiocy and forget that the world was ending. "So, would the Ice Sprites have Apparated here?"

"Honestly, Potter, do you ever use that brain?"

"No. That's what I have you for."

Luna and Rolf were collecting samples and recording observations of the Sprites, so Harry and Draco sat on one of the packed sleds to share a power bar and have their conversation.

"This is just a theory, you understand?" Draco looked to Harry, who nodded immediately. He'd gotten used to scientific talk, and any theory espoused could be proven wrong by the evidence. He was unlikely to forget. "Well, this is all wild magic – the elf penguins, the sprites, the flowers. There is the possibility that all of these things were here already, hibernating beneath the ice until the right conditions came along and they could unfreeze and continue on with their lives. However, I think it more likely that the wild magic created them out of thin air."

"Where does the wild magic come from?"

"It's everywhere – in the atmosphere, the earth, the ice. Fire, to finish the recitation of the elements. It's where we get our magic from – it soaks into our skin and is at its strongest at ley crossings."

"But we don't get strange magical mutations in Britain."

"We use the magic in Britain. Everywhere else in the world has wizards close by utilizing that magic. Here, we're the only wizards on the continent so the magic has to go somewhere. My _theory_ is that the magic has been trapped in the ice, and as the ice melts it's releasing large bubbles of magical energy which is causing random mutations and spontaneous new magical species."

"So, if we could do magic here and help burn it up, then the Sprites wouldn't be here."

"Correct, Potter. Five points to Gryffindor. But nor would the ice flowers or the elf penguins."

"But they shouldn't be here, should they?"

Draco looked over at Luna and Rolf who were still surrounded by the creatures. "Who's to say what should or should not be allowed to exist? They're here. They have as much right to be here as we do."

"That's…"

"Deep?" Draco looked back at him. "Open-minded? Tolerant?"

"I guess."

"I'm not who I used to be, Potter. I wish you could see that."

"Draco, that's not what I meant. I just-"

"We're going to camp here tonight," Rolf yelled from across the ice. "Can you pitch the tents?"

"Of course." Draco started unpacking equipment and wouldn't listen to anything Harry said for the rest of the night.

 

**February 18, 2020: I'm the kind of guy who, when everything is going great, will do something to completely stuff it up…**

They were all hoping that this would be the last rest day of the trip. It was certainly the last supply drop and Rolf thought they were three weeks or so out. When he called in the drop, he told Mawson that they'd be arriving around March 10. Harry couldn't wait.

He was watching Draco do his daily magic practice thing, some Levitation and a _Lumos_ was normally the extent of it, when Rolf approached them.

"The plane will be here in half an hour. We've been lucky with the weather this trip."

"Somebody's smiling on us," Draco said, and Harry was reminded of his earlier thought that the Evil Weather Wizard was luring them into a false sense of security. But there was no Evil Weather Wizard, just the everyday evil of good people doing nothing.

Harry tuned back into the conversation at Draco's groan. "This is why we need a wizarding base in Antarctica. So few wizards follow Muggle science, and the powers that be ignore it completely, even with Muggle-borns in power. Now land ice is sliding into the sea and you know it's going to be ignored by our society."

Harry wasn't sure he knew what science they were talking about, but he understood wizarding base. "Are you sure a base would be a good idea?"

"If getting information from wizards is the only way to get action from wizarding governments, then it's the only way forward," Draco said.

"Wouldn't anyone based here be able to use the wild magic to their own advantage? You're giving someone the opportunity to become very powerful."

"No one would do that, Harry," Rolf said. Harry just sent him a doubtful look.

"Harry's paranoid about Dark wizards."

"Evil Weather Wizards. And it's my job."

"Evil Weather what, Harry?" Rolf sat back on the spread sleeping bags, laughing.

Draco had fixated on something else, though. " _Is_ your job, Harry?"

" _Was_ my job."

Draco's features had twisted to that calculating look, as if he was sifting through the past and coming to conclusions, and Harry prayed he'd hidden his original motives well enough. "You're not here to find yourself." Damn that man for being so smart. "Granger sent you because she thought climate change was magical. That's why the Ministry was suddenly willing to pay for this. It's why you got so angry at the idea that you were running away." He ran a hand through his hair. "Is Granger an idiot? This is exactly the problem with Muggle-borns."

"Watch what you say, Malfoy!" That was too close to the old insults.

"For fuck's sake, Potter, I'm not saying she's inherently worse than I am. I just mean… well, you came to the magical world and suddenly injuries were healed in seconds rather than days. Chores were finished with the wave of a wand."

"Food magically appeared on the plate in front of you." Harry found himself understanding what Draco was saying.

"That was house-elves."

"I didn't know that."

"What I'm trying to say is that the magical world seems, for want of a better word, magical. It's black and white, bad things are caused by evil wizards, and the right magic can cure all ills. But nature created magic, and in the end is a stronger power than magic. And there's no evil wizard, there's no spell that will fix it. There's us, and the planet lives or dies based on the actions of all of us, not one Dark Lord or one Boy-Who-Lived."

"You think I don't know that?"

"You didn't at the start, did you? Did she think there was some mad megalomaniac living in an igloo and carving shards of ice off of the shelves in the hopes of slowing drowning the planet? Or was it one of us, taking the opportunity of travelling across the ice to do the damage?"

Harry felt his face heat and wished that he'd learnt not to let his emotions show all the time. "She didn’t think that."

"No." Draco's voice was back to that hard flint that he remembered from school. "You did. Someone in the Aurors' office should have taught you to lie, Potter. Have you been having fun spying on me? Managed to confirm your suspicions?"

Harry was vaguely aware of Luna slipping into the tent to stare at them open-mouthed.

"Draco-" he began.

"Don't call me that, _Potter_."

"I didn't know you back then."

"Did I give you _any_ reason to be suspicious of me?"

"You know what, _Malfoy_? Last time I suspected you were doing something devious, I was right!"

"That was twenty-three fucking years ago, Potter. You're going to hold that against me?"

"Seems as good a reason to listen to my gut as any other. How the hell do I know what you've been doing down here?"

Draco turned to Rolf. "This is why I don't work in Great Britain, Rolf. I was a scared kid who made a mistake and no matter what I do or how much I've changed, no one will ever forget it." He began to gather his sleeping bag and clothes and turned to Luna and Rolf. "I'm sorry to break up your love fest, but one of you is going to have to sleep in here. I won't share with him again."

"I'll get my things," Rolf said and followed Draco out the tent. That left Harry with Luna and he found he had no defence to the accusation in her eyes.

 

  


Chapter 5

**March 7, 2020: Our group had been remarkably lucky. It couldn't last…**

On the morning of Luna's birthday, Harry woke her with cocoa and a birthday present.

"I got you some other things, for your hobbies over winter, but they were a bit bulky, so they'll be waiting at Mawson. Just Honeydukes today."

He'd been sharing with Luna since his argument with Draco, and he felt guilty that she'd have to share with him again tonight instead of spending the night with Rolf. Luna remained Luna, though, and had quickly moved past the disappointment she'd expressed straight after the argument.

"Thank you, Harry." She sniffled and he looked across at her. Her voice sounded thick. "That's very nice."

"It's just chocolate, Luna. There's no need to cry."

Luna laughed and it suddenly turned into a hacking couch. "As thoughtful as your gift is," she said between coughs, "I'm not crying. I've just caught cold, I think."

Harry whisked her cocoa away as she was about to take a sip and set about making a medicated lemon and honey drink from a sachet in their medical kit. Rolf trooped into the tent at that moment with his birthday wishes, followed closely by Draco who sent Harry his usual glare.

Luna held her hand up when Rolf bent down to kiss her.

"Don't want you getting sick as well," she mumbled before she started coughing again.

Rolf dropped down beside her and placed a hand to her head, birthdays forgotten for the moment. "Shall we stop for the day and give you a chance to get healthy?"

"No. It's just a cold." She took the mug of tea from Harry and took a careful sip. "I'll be fine. We should push on."

Every morning after that Rolf asked the same question and Luna insisted that they push on. Harry found himself taking the lead more often than usual, which he knew was because he was still the slowest and it gave Luna a rest. They dropped a skiing leg from each day and Rolf spent his time looking worried. Although they all carried extra provisions, they were meant to be at the base already and Rolf had radioed a new estimated time of arrival when their daily mileage had halved.

It was on one of his frequent lead legs that the tickle of magic hit his nose. He turned immediately towards it and began striking out north-west.

"Wait!"

"Potter! What are you doing?"

Harry stopped at the shouts from behind him and waited for Rolf and Draco to catch up. They overtook Luna easily and she only got slower as she approached them. He'd forgotten.

"There was magic. I just headed off like I usually do. But we can't." He was mumbling. "Sorry."

"Where's it coming from?" Rolf asked and Harry waved his hand in the general direction.

"It feels strong as well. It needs to be explored."

Luna reached them then and fumbled in her inner pockets for a tissue. "The snot would freeze if we weren't moving. It's only my body-heat that keeps my nose running."

"Thank you for that insight," Draco drawled. "Clearly, given the state of your snot, you're not up to an indefinite detour."

"We should go," she said, trying to cover up her cough. "We're here to explore what the magic is doing to the environment. We can't miss this opportunity."

"No." All three of them spoke at once.

"We're going to get to Mawson as quickly as we can," Rolf added.

"Maybe we can split up," Luna said.

"We're not doing that either, Luna." Rolf pulled out a compass and pointed his skis in the right direction. "Let's go."

Harry fell into line behind Luna. He'd be glad when the skiing was at an end.

 

**March 11, 2020: It was agonizing to hear Luna coughing so violently and knowing we couldn't do anything except carry on…**

The magical signature grew stronger as they trudged towards the base, but Rolf refused to let them detour to the site. Luna barely looked up from her feet, and the four of them made sure she never had to either lead or trail. No one wanted to lose her behind them and she wasn't strong enough to make a trail through the snow. On their breaks, she shivered and clutched at the thermos of sweet, milky tea Rolf made for her in the mornings. At night, she had a fever that kept her kicking off her sleeping bag, despite the fact she needed to keep warm. Draco reluctantly re-joined Harry in his tent, so that Rolf could sleep curled up with her and attempt to regulate her temperature.

Two days out from Mawson, Rolf joined them in their tent.

"Maybe we should stay put for a couple of days. We've got enough supplies and it will give her a chance to get over it." It was Draco that made the suggestion.

"Our other option is to leave one of the sleds and dump the gear from a second and I can drag her."

"I don't like it," Harry said.

"I agree." It was easy to tell it was a serious situation when Draco actually agreed with him, rather than disagreeing on principle. "You're dragging her through the cold and she won't have the benefit of exercise to keep her core body temperature up. We should stay put and let her get over it now."

"And what if we dump gear and then come up against a blizzard or get lost or something before we hit Mawson. We shouldn't dump supplies when there are other options."

The tent flap zipped open and Luna slid in. "I'm alright to go on."

Her face was still pinker then it should be and the strain around her eyes spoke to a pounding head. Harry was sure his expression was as dubious as Rolf and Draco's.

"It's two _short_ days to Mawson, Rolf. There's a stash of pepper-up that we haven't dug into yet, and the sooner I get to Mawson, the sooner I can have a warm shower and a soft mattress."

Harry didn't want to believe her; he'd never seen Luna's eyes look so lifeless. On the other hand, stopping for two days would mean two days in Draco's company while Rolf took care of the other blonde. They might be in agreement now, but the cold shoulder would come back out, once the current crisis was over. He felt his lips twitch upwards. Quite literal cold shoulder.

Harry could see Rolf's brain ticking over. There were precautions they could take when dragging someone behind them, but Rolf knew as well as they did that it wasn't ideal. He came to a decision.

"We'll stay here today and give Luna one day to rest. We strike out again tomorrow with the pepper-up and a lot of luck."

"It's alright, Rolf. Having Harry here is like having a bottle of _Felix Felicis_ along for the ride. Nothing ever happens to him and his friends."

Harry felt himself flinch with how untrue that was. He didn't need to close his eyes to see Sirius and Severus, Fred, Moody and Ron flit past his eyes. He also saw regret on Draco's face, as if he wanted to take it back, before the mask returned.

"I like that plan," Luna said. "I'm going back to sleep."

Rolf stood to follow her before turning to the two of them. "You two are going to be alright? No one's going to get killed during the day?" They both shook their heads. "Okay. No baths today. I don't want to risk anyone getting sick this close to civilization."

Harry set about making breakfast while Draco slid back into his sleeping bag. He considered leaving Draco to his own devices, but he knew that this was his fault, and he should fix it somehow, so he fixed a bowl of warm porridge for both of them. Draco didn't say thank you, but he also didn't turn away from the offered food.

The silence stretched until Draco performed cleaning spells on both the bowls and picked up the book he'd been reading during the odd spare moment on the trip. Harry lay down, considering getting some more sleep, but found that his thoughts were too busy.

He should have been thinking about the unnamed and very powerful magical signature that was to the west of them, but his thoughts were on the man lying next to him. He wondered what it was about time in Antarctica, but it truly felt longer than three months that they'd been on the ice. In that short amount of time, he'd forged a friendship with Draco Malfoy, shared confidences, apologized for past mistakes and then fucked everything up and gone back to being hated. Even he shouldn't have been able to manage that in such a short period of time.

"What are we going to do about the signature?"

The voice jolted him out of his reverie and he only managed a "Whu?" in response.

"The magical signature, Potter. Or aren't you worrying about Evil Weather Wizards anymore?"

"You told me I was being an idiot and this was all natural."

"You are an idiot, but I've been wrong before. I think we need to check it out, and before the winter sets in properly, as well."

Harry turned on his side to find those silver eyes looking into his, so he quickly went back to staring at the yellow polypropylene ceiling. "Luna's not well enough for a detour."

"No shit."

"Then what are you suggesting?"

"We leave Rolf and Luna at Mawson and immediately turn back around to investigate the signature. I mean, it's strong enough that I can sense it. It needs to be taken care of."

"I thought I was nothing on the ice and likely to get someone killed."

"That was five months ago, before you'd even _been_ on the ice. You're going to hold that against me?"

"No. I guess not. Obviously you trust me, if you're willing to go out there with me."

"Yeah, I trust you to keep us alive. Keep in mind that doesn't mean I like you."

Harry managed to control the flinch that that statement caused. After all, he probably deserved it.

"I'll do whatever you think best, Malfoy."

He turned on his side and pretended to fall asleep, but stared at the tent wall for a long time.

 

**March 14, 2020: Nothing quite beats the knowledge that you've accomplished what you set out to do. And was there a bigger accomplishment than this?**

The next two days were uneventful, as far as trudging went, but excruciating as far as relations with his tent mate were concerned. Malfoy was polite, but there were none of the smiles of before. Harry made his own breakfast, and they shared their morning beverage in stony silence, rather than the quiet conversations of pre-stupid Harry, as he had started referring to the incident in his head.

The only important thing was that Luna continued to move forward and they could see the red sheds of Mawson in the distance.

"We're almost there, Potter," Draco said as he skied past.

"Yes. I will continue to trudge."

"What?"

"To trudge: the slow, weary, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply soldier on."

"That film had no redeeming features. Honestly, did they do no research in medieval history before they made it?"

"I think it was meant to be funny – a fusion of modern and medieval. Also, Paul Bettany has a hot arse."

"Ugh. Honestly, what's your thing with gingers?" He pulled his scarf back over his mouth and trudged on, leaving Harry smiling in his wake.

There was a ridge over the base and they paused there to eat lunch. "By the end of the next skiing leg," Rolf said and despite their plan to head back out and investigate the signature, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

"I did it," he said, then turned to Luna. "We did it."

"Unless you trip and break your leg somewhere between here and there and we have to carry you the rest of the way."

"Shut it, Draco," Rolf said. "You've made it. You've skied across a continent, the harshest one on the planet, and no one can ever take that away from you."

Rolf eagerly shook Harry's hand and Draco pressed a kiss to Luna's forehead. They cut lunch short to make the final push. Despite Harry knowing that a shower and non-dehydrated foods waited for him at the end of this last leg, Harry already felt accomplished. There might still be an Evil Weather Wizard, and any dreams he'd had of shagging Draco Malfoy senseless seemed to be unobtainable, but he'd skied across a continent. Just him, his two legs dragging a sled from one side of Antarctica to the other. And he didn't succeed because a madman marked him as a baby and left a piece of his soul behind. He didn't succeed with the mentorship of Albus Dumbledore or with the Deathly Hallows in hand. He succeeded because he was strong in his own right, and maybe he had found something he didn't realize was lost. Maybe he'd manage to build something when he got back. He stopped trudging and started skiing and some sentimental part of him that he scoffed at, said he was skiing into his future.

 

It was only an hour before they dragged themselves into the base. While they were still half an hour out, they could see people moving about, obviously doing their jobs for the day, but by the time they arrived the activity had come to an end as everyone stood in front of a large red building waiting for them. The rest of the base was spread out before them – a collection of brightly-coloured block-style buildings rather like a handful of James' Lego blocks thrown randomly on the dirt.

One large man broke away from the group and walked towards Rolf. "We were expecting you a few days ago. Glad to see you." Their handshake devolved into a hug before Rolf pulled Luna away.

"We've got a case of the flu. I need to get Luna settled in and then we'll unpack. This is Harry and you know Draco. Introduce yourself!"

With that, he unhooked himself and Luna and ushered her into the building.

All Harry could see of the man was his hulking size and blue eyes that twinkled in a way that reminded him of Albus Dumbledore.

"G'day. I'm Jack, the Station Leader, which means I'm in charge of this little shindig. Why don't Marcy and I help you guys unpack and then you can get into your trakky daks and relax."

"Trakky daks?" Harry asked with a sideways look at Draco.

"He means track pants. You'll get used to it, along with dunny, dog and bone and the ever-present g'day. Honestly, you'd never believe they were colonized by people who knew how to speak the Queen's English. Oh, that's right. They were colonized by thieves and thugs."

He stuck his nose in the air in a way only Malfoy could do correctly and walked towards Rolf's sled. Jack leaned close to his ear. "Australians don't really say 'g'day'. We just realized last time he visited that it _really_ annoyed Malfoy. I've made sure everyone on base this winter knows to use it daily."

Harry snorted, but Draco had started yelling at him, so he moved forward to help.

"Not our things," Draco was saying to a young man that must have been Marcy. "Potter and I have to go back out there tomorrow. We skipped something I needed to see, because Luna was so ill, but we'll have to investigate before the weather sets in." He turned to Harry. "Maybe we should sleep out here tonight. It will let us get an early start, rather than getting coddled by warm showers and a soft bed."

Harry stared longingly at the red building that promised warmth that might actually seep into his bones. Thankfully, it was Jack that answered. "Don't be silly, Draco. A good night's sleep means you set off fresh in the morning. How many days will you be gone?"

"Not more than five, I shouldn't think. Two to get to where we have to go, one to do the measurements, two more to get back."

"Alright, throw your sleds straight in here," they'd walked to a large storage building, "and we can take everything off of Luna and Loverboy's?"

Harry snickered, but helped take everything off Rolf and Luna's sleds and helped haul it up to the main building. They left the gear, along with outdoor clothes, in an annexe that was full of defrosting clothes and equipment.

"Your crate of gear is already in your donga – we moved it yesterday afternoon. The summer ship left yesterday, so no sharing. It's only the over winterers left, and we're having a big roast dinner to celebrate. Local time now is 14.00. Dinner is 18.30. There's the mess. The common room is past that. The scientific block is here, med lab," he pointed out rooms too quickly for Harry to keep up. "And the living areas. Any questions?"

"Is a donga the same as a dunny?" Harry asked.

"No, the dunny is here." Harry poked his head in the room and saw it was a bathroom. "And donga is the Antarctic word for living quarters. You four have been bunked close. Harry, here and Draco, next door. Luna and Rolf are opposite you. Get settled in, and come to the mess at 17.30 for a safety briefing."

The room was small and currently cluttered with his crate of gear. He opened it and pulled out the bag at the top, which had his clothes and toiletries. The first thing he wanted, after three months of ice baths, was a proper shower. The four of them were sharing the bathroom, but there were two showers, so he pushed the door open in the hopes of finding one unoccupied.

One was unoccupied. Unfortunately, the other one wasn't. The other one held Draco Malfoy, and he looked even better with warm water cascading down his skin than he did stark naked on the cold ice. The glass shower screen began to steam up, as did Harry's glasses, allowing him to look away.

He quickly stripped the sweaty clothes and left them in a pile on the floor beside Draco's.

"Is there plenty of hot water?" he asked as he twisted the taps.

"If there isn't, spell some more. Your magic should be back full force."

"That's right." Harry stepped under the water and moaned as the warmth hit his chest. "I'd forgotten that we'd be able to do magic, once we were back in civilization. It feels good, but so does this water…" He was rambling, he knew, but he had to distract himself from the image of Draco that was in his brain, and the reality that the man himself was separated from him by one thin, tiled wall. "It's good to be warm again-"

"Potter?"

"Yes."

"I'm trying to enjoy my first hot shower in three months. I'd appreciate it if you'd shut up."

"Sorry."

Of course, once he stopped talking, the images assaulted his brain. It was the same body he'd seen on the ice, lean muscles covered by smooth skin, a light scattering of hair on his chest and stomach. But the ice had tinged his skin blue as they washed and kept every part of him tense in an attempt to generate heat.

In the warm water, Draco was flushed. Relaxed. Incredibly sexy. At the memory, Harry's neglected cock decided to remind him that it existed. A soft groan echoed around the small bathroom and Harry told himself that Draco was reacting to the pleasure of warm water hitting his skin. Of course, Harry was experiencing that same pleasure and it had left him hard and leaking. As more sounds of pleasure escaped Draco's mouth, Harry found himself clenching his fists, fighting the urge to take his cock in hand. He concentrated on rinsing the conditioner from his hair.

Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a hand moving over hard flesh. Harry had shared a dorm room for six years. He knew what that sound was.

"Are you wanking?"

This time Draco's groan was pure annoyance. "I thought I told you to shut up, Potter."

"You couldn't wait until you got back to your room?"

"I find after three months in a tent that I don't want to wait. Please don't let my enjoyment stop you from finding yours."

Harry tried to tell himself that it was a hard decision, but by the time he'd thought 'I guess I could', he was already moaning at the feel of hand on cock. Harry didn't have to search for images to fuel his fantasy. He turned to face the wall that linked their two showers and leaned his forehead against it, before letting his imagination run free.

Draco's hair would be wet and clinging to his neck. The muscles in his shoulder and arm would be flexing as he moved it with agonizing slowness, trying to draw the pleasure out. Draco would be leaning against the same wall, he told himself, and Harry put his spare hand on the wall, imagining that Draco's hand was at the same place on the other side.

Draco's sounds of pleasure came from the back of his throat and Harry's louder moans joined them, mingling in the air the same way the steam joined above their heads and the distinctive smell of their shampoos joined to make one heady scent. He moved his hand with purpose now, unable to imagine Draco doing anything except the same, a sure, steady stroke leading inevitably towards oblivion. The idea that Draco might do something else, might moisten a finger and push it into his tight hole rushed through his brain and the sound that came from his throat was choked and garbled and incomprehensible, thank Merlin, because the word loud in his brain was _Draco_ and it would not do for Draco to hear that.

Draco's breathing was fast and loud and as Harry quickly rinsed the stickiness from his hand and the tiled wall he heard a sudden silence then a deep sound that was almost a growl. He didn't want to face Draco after this, so he wrapped a towel around himself and walked towards the door.

He couldn't resist one last glance back and saw, through the steamed up screen, Draco's hand splayed against the wall, just as he'd imagined.

 

Back in his bedroom – donga – he dried and dressed quickly, hoping to avoid Draco until the safety briefing. He unpacked the crate, placing books on shelves and clothes in drawers and cupboards. He had a laptop that Hermione had arranged and he carefully unpacked it and placed it on his desk. Finally, at the bottom of the crate was the box full of files he'd packed at the last minute, all those months ago.

He put his hands on the lid, ready to open it as he had so many times before, but he stopped himself. He hadn't looked for over three months; hadn't felt the need to beat himself up about what had happened for that long. He put the box underneath his desk and sat on his bed. There were other, more important, things to worry about. He turned to his door. Time to find someone who could help him hook the laptop up to the internet. Hermione would want to know they'd arrived.

 

It didn't take very long for him to meet the group staying for the winter – overwintering, as they continued to correct him. There was a small group who, as Jack put it, made sure the pipes didn't freeze over the winter: some techies, a plumber and electrician, a medic, others whose jobs Harry hadn't managed to identify. Sixteen people all told – their group made 20 – all surviving out on the ice for the winter.

Jack sent Marcy to him to set up the computer and Harry sat on his bed and watched the man click through different screens.

"It doesn't look like there's anything on here," he commented.

"Oh, I bought it new for the trip," Harry said.

"You'll need to download some things – messenger, iTunes. I'll get you Firefox as well: Explorer sucks."

Harry had no idea what the man was talking about, so he changed the topic. "No offense, but Marcy is a strange name for a man."

"Yeah. I'm really Marc. Last time I overwintered there was another Mark, but his name was spelled with a K and mine is M-A-R-C. So, he stayed Mark and I became Mar-cee."

"Aah… So this isn't your first overwinter?"

"No, it's my second. My first was a couple of years ago, with Jack. Draco was there that summer. It was a good group that year, all male."

"So you already know Malfoy?"

"Yeah, Draco and I, er-" The git turned and flashed a grin at Harry and Harry knew exactly what he and Draco had – er. He bit back a possessive growl out of pure desperation, because if he'd let it loose, he would have had to examine why he'd done it. Time for another topic.

"You can get more internet than I'd imagined you could."

"Yeah. It's improved, though it's still behind what you can get on the mainland. But all the scientists over the summer need to be able to reach civilization, and it's nice for us to keep in contact with family. You have family?"

"Three kids. They're away at school most of the year."

"Like Draco's kid."

"Yeah. Mine are at the same school."

"Ah, the old boys' network of Great Britain. I was wondering how an author who'd never been to Antarctica before managed to get onto the great Rolf Scamander's expedition."

Anything resembling the truth would have to be Obliviated, so Harry went with the benign, "Draco's son and my Al are friends."

The conversation moved to less fraught topics, with Harry happily describing James' skill for sports, Albus' sharp intelligence and Lily's artistic soul. Marcy was happily describing his childhood in the tropical North of Australia when he stopped and motioned Harry over.

"I'm sure you won't have any problems with the programs, but this is how to get onto our network." Harry leaned over the young man, but found himself distracted with thoughts of Draco and Marcy. Marcy and his stupid rugged good looks, and shaggy black hair and stupid green eyes. He had to be at least fifteen years younger than he and Draco as well, and he didn't have any stupid, messy beard like Harry's that hadn't been shaved off because they were going back on the ice tomorrow. He shook his head and tried to pay attention, but turned at a sound at his door.

Draco was standing there glaring, his eyes going from Marcy to Harry and back again. "Potter. Marcy." He gave them each a curt nod. "Potter, this safety briefing is more important than your flirtations. Let's get going."

Harry got the message to stay away from Draco's man pretty clearly through the glare, and allowed himself to be dragged away.

"Thanks for setting it up, Marcy."

"No problem, Harry. My pleasure."

Draco growled then. Harry felt a momentary pang that Draco didn't want to growl when someone flirted with him. That was something else not to examine, so he quickly followed Draco down the hall.

Draco didn't speak to him through the entire briefing or the meal, where he sat at the far end of the table. Harry sat next to Jack, who explained more about the traditions and realities of life on the station.

"We try to eat dinner together during winter. At least, we do when I'm in charge. And there are special dinners for birthdays, so we'll have to add yours and Luna's to the calendar. And now you have to tell me what's going on with you and Malfoy?"

Harry almost choked on his roast carrot. "Nothing," he managed to cough out as he reached for water.

"Then why does he keep staring at us? I don't want any problems on my station."

"We managed not to kill each other during six years of schooling together, I'm sure we'll manage to resist over the next eight months."

"I'm sure there were more than twenty people at your school. You can't hide here, so I'm asking you nicely to keep the animosity to a low level. I know Draco can be a bit… high maintenance, but he is a good guy, if you get past all the icicles trying to keep you out."

"Our history may be too much to overcome, Jack, but I'll make sure it doesn't affect anyone else."

"Thank you, Harry."

 

**March 16, 2020: No matter how accomplished I felt by finishing my transverse, there was nothing I wanted to do more than stay inside that warm base. Unfortunately, I still had work to do…**

It was hard getting out of bed the next morning, since it was comfortable and warm, but Draco came in to Harry's donga entirely too early and both pulled the covers back and poured cold water over him. Harry sat up spluttering.

"I was awake, you prat!"

"If you were awake, you should have been out of bed. We're getting close to winter. I want to be back quickly."

"Why are you being so gung-ho? It's six in the morning – we weren't leaving til nine on the ice."

"Because the sooner we get there and I somehow prove to you that I am not trying to destroy the world, the sooner we get back and I can try to avoid you for the next eight months." Draco threw a pile of clothes at him. "Hurry up."

Harry waited until Draco had stormed out before he rose and pulled on the familiar layers needed for survival outside. The knowledge that he'd fucked something up was hardly unfamiliar, but it seemed to hurt more than it should. It was only Malfoy, after all. The ferret was hardly his best mate, but Harry thought they could have built _something_ , if he hadn't been so stupidly suspicious.

Jack and Marcy waved them off before seven and Draco took lead and set a blistering pace. They didn’t stop until ten, by which time Harry felt like his thighs were on fire.

"Eat quickly. I want to get going in ten minutes."

"Fine. But I'll take lead."

"No, I –"

"Draco. You can't ski me to death. Slow down, before we're so tired we get injured or ill."

Draco looked like he was going to argue, but in the end just gave a small nod and went back to his power bar. Harry set out much slower and insisted on taking lead for the rest of the day. They camped that night already enveloped in the magical energy, but didn't discuss it. Didn't discuss anything. Draco pretended to sleep on his side of the tent and Harry pretended to sleep on the other. Their morning ritual was the same as it had been every other time they shared a tent, except that there were no friendly insults and no casual discussions of films or their children. The icy silence from the day before continued.

By the end of the second day, they still hadn't found the source of the magical signature and Harry was getting frustrated by the silence.

"I'm sorry, you know," he said as they ate dinner. "I really had no idea what was going on when I started this and I jumped to a stupid conclusion. I don't believe you have anything to do with the ice cap melting."

"Well, no more than anyone else valuing an exceptionally long, hot shower more than the environment." Harry blushed at the mention of a shower and turned to rinse off his bowl. Draco was smirking at his obvious discomfort. "If you don't believe it, why did you say it?"

"A knee-jerk reaction, I suppose. You're supposed to be the bad guy. I'm supposed to be the good guy. That's the script I was working with. And you're right. It's easier to believe that there's one person causing this, that we can stop the new Voldemort and fix it."

"Than believing there's nothing to be done? Yeah. I know."

Draco pulled out a bottle of good whiskey and poured measures into two plastic mugs. "This doesn't mean I've forgiven you," he said, as he offered one to Harry.

"I would never imagine it did," Harry said, but the smile they shared said something different.

 

By the middle of day three, it was clear they were in the middle of the field of magic with no source in sight.

"There's not the melted ice we saw in the last magic field."

"No. Nor any magical flora or fauna," said Draco. He murmured under his breath again, and the purple mist began to expand through the clearing.

As they watched the mist settled around something, highlighting a large shape that loomed above them. Harry reacted instinctively, grabbing the back of Draco's jacket and pulling him along as he backed away. The abstract shape surrounding them began to change into something recognizable. Scaly legs. A leathery white wing. Harry kept backing away as he saw the forked tail, and what the creature was came together in his mind just as a long neck moved and a snout with long teeth turned to face them.

"Draco, RUN!" Harry said, turning and doing his best to move as fast as possible. Unfortunately, skis weren't designed for running away from snow-white dragons, and he was moving far more slowly than he wanted to be, given how close they were to the thing. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and saw that Draco was frozen. Harry stopped dead as well, taking in the sheer wild beauty of the dragon stretching its wings and tilting its neck, screeching into the night.

It was the screech that shook Draco from his trance, and as the dragon let loose a burst of frost, Draco pushed forward, dodging the blast. Harry followed, hoping that the two of them could distract it, or maybe manage to stun it. Maybe in this cold, the dragon's magic was equally weak, though given that it breathed frost instead of fire, it was likely that this was its natural habitat. He wasn't fast enough, though. Harry watched in horror as the long teeth of the beast ripped into Draco's flesh. Harry did the first thing he thought of: he grabbed Draco's wrist and Apparated them back to Mawson.

 

They arrived in the annexe, skis tangled, terror-induced sweat soaking their clothes and Draco screaming in pain. People began rushing in, but Harry ignored them. He used his wand to rip the clothes open and gasped at the jagged wound across his lower back and right buttock.

"Harry?"

"There's Dittany," Harry said at the sound of Rolf's voice. "In my toiletries bag."

"I'll get it," Luna said.

Harry didn't look up from the wound. He took a deep breath and tried to feel the magic flowing through him. There was a spell that could fix this. He was an Auror, he'd dealt with this sort of destruction before and he could heal the torn flesh below him, but the cold still infested his bones, and adrenaline and terror were shooting through his blood and he had to _concentrate_ or Draco was going to bleed to death under his hands.

He began chanting the incantation, moving the wand in a complicated pattern over the wound. Draco had stopped screaming, and Harry vaguely recognized he'd passed out from the pain. It was better this way. Rolf grabbed his attention and mimed pouring the vial over Draco. Harry nodded, never pausing from his chanting, praying that he would see the muscle start to knit.

For one long, horrible moment, he thought nothing was happening, but as Rolf tipped another bottle of Dittany into the wound he saw it start to close. The dragon claw that had been gripping his heart released its hold and Harry found the rest of the spell easier, as he began to breathe more freely. Finally, a large, ugly gash remained, but it wasn't bleeding, the muscles were back together and Draco was going to live. Harry sat back on his heels, catching his breath.

"Harry, what the hell happened?"

"The source – we'll have to Obliviate. Shit. Sorry, I just did it automatically. Merlin." He took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I Apparated us here."

"What?" Rolf's voice got dangerously loud, but Harry wasn't listening. His body was shaking as he realized what he'd done. They could have disappeared, never to be found. It was impossible to Apparate in Antarctica – they'd all told him that. He could have killed himself. He could have killed Draco. He turned from the unconscious form in front of him and promptly emptied his stomach over the polished concrete floor.

 

When he awoke, he was back in his own room, his kids looking down on him from a picture frame on his shelf. He turned towards the murmured voices and saw Rolf and Jack standing in his door.

"What happened?"

"I, uh, used a sleeping spell on you. You were getting kind of hysterical."

"Sorry. I should be used to high stress situations. Wait –" Harry looked between Jack and Rolf. "Um… Jack…"

"Is a Squib," Jack put in. "That's how Rolf manages to get permission for these trips even though none of his work has ever been seen in a Muggle scientific journal. We're old friends."

"Oh."

"Everyone else has been Obliviated. They think you just got back early. Now… do you want to tell me what prompted you to risk your life, and Draco's, on that ridiculously dangerous stunt?"

Harry felt the blood flow leave his face again as he thought of what they'd found. He took a deep breath. There's nothing they could do at the moment.

"Is Draco okay? I didn't Splinch him at all?"

"No. Nor did you Splinch yourself. I didn't believe Draco when he said you were the most powerful wizard alive, but I'm starting to."

Harry frowned. Even after all these years, he was still uncomfortable with that conclusion. "I've told you before, Rolf. I'm just lucky. In this case, incredibly lucky. It was a dragon."

"What?"

"Like a komodo dragon?" asked Jack.

"I don't know what that is, Jack."

"A really big lizard."

"Well, if by really big, you mean as large as this station, and if by lizard, you mean reptilian magical creature that both flies and breathes, well, killing frost in this case, then yes. A komodo dragon."

"No. That's an ice dragon."

"You know it, Rolf?"

"They're the things of legend, even among wizards. There was evidence that they'd existed in the northern polar region, but had died out for some reason. There's never been evidence of them in the south."

"Well, now there is. It was invisible until Draco cast his purple mist spell, then we could see it. I wonder if that bit of magic –" Harry paused, trying to figure out what he was saying.

"Brought it back into being?"

"Yeah. That sounds insane."

"It may be a workable hypothesis. We'll have to go back out, but I'm no dragon expert."

"We'll have to do something about keeping it under control. How the hell do we cast repelling wards to keep it in and Muggles out, in a place where we can barely cast magic?"

"I'm not an expert on dragons," Rolf repeated.

"I'll ask Hermione to get in contact with Charlie, though I think any request for information will be better coming from you."

"Charlie?"

"Weasley."

"Oh, the foremost expert on dragon reserves and containment in the world. That Charlie."

"We used to be friends."

"Okay. I'll put my head together with Luna. Draco's still under – we'll need to keep an eye on the wound. Make sure it doesn't get infected. Besides that, welcome back."

"I'm sorry," said Jack. "Are we talking about _dragon_ dragons?"

 

Harry had another shower and took the time to shave the whiskers from his face before he started looking like Dumbledore. Then he went to Draco's room, to find the man still sleeping.

"Luna put a healing sleep on him. He'll wake up once his body has fought off any infection."

"So… you're stripping him?" Harry asked as Rolf manipulated Draco's body, peeling off the layers of clothes.

"He's wearing too much clothing, considering it's heated in here."

"Um… Vanish it?"

"This is expensive equipment, all of it. You want it to disappear into the ether?"

"Oh. I'll help."

Draco didn't wake as they manipulated his limbs and pulled his clothes off.

"Angry and red," Harry commented as they peeled the fabric away from his wound. "That's not good."

"Who knows what the dragon had in his teeth. But there are plenty of ways to clear it up, and his body may fight it yet. So stop worrying. It looks like he's survived something just as bad, judging by this scar on his chest." Harry was supporting Draco from behind as Rolf lifted clothes over his head, but even without seeing the scar, he knew what Rolf was referring to. "Another dragon, maybe?" Rolf asked with a grin.

"No. Just a stupid boy who didn't think."

Rolf looked at him, but chose not to say anything. The silence stretched as Harry slid the silk pyjamas that were under Draco's pillow onto his body.

"Do you ever regret the choices you've made, Rolf?" Harry asked as his fingers.

"No. But I don't think I've been presented with as many hard choices as you have, Harry."

Harry pressed a hand to the silk that covered Draco's scar. He heard Rolf close the door behind him.

 

Harry stayed in Draco's room while he waited for the blond to awake from the healing sleep. He was clearly feverish at some points, thrashing in his bed as his magic fought the infection, but eventually he lapsed into a more peaceful slumber. Harry crept from his room at that point, going to the mess to see what he could scrounge up to eat. He found Curtis, the station chef, whipping up scrambled eggs and was immediately seconded to help.

The familiar movements of cooking a hot breakfast teased through his worry and he managed to think about something besides Draco lying still and more pale than usual, on his narrow bed. In fact, as he stirred pancake batter, he managed to spend some time thinking about nothing at all, and it was this that allowed the tension to ease from his shoulders.

"You've done this before," said Curtis, cutting through his thoughts.

"Yeah. I used to do the cooking when I was growing up."

"I think you like it. It clears your head, as it's supposed to."

Harry thought for a moment. "I guess I do. I certainly never thought I would."

"Well, you'll be rostered on to help anyway, but I usually get those people to do the cleaning and cutting for me. Anytime you want to come help actually cook, you can."

Harry nodded shyly and began spooning batter into the frying pan. It wouldn't be long before people came looking for food.

Luna wandered through the doors and Harry realized he'd yet to see how she was.

"Much better, thank you, Harry," she said when he asked. "I've been wondering what to name those horrible creatures that cause the flu, though."

"They're called germs," Curtis put in.

"That's a boring name. They should be called Flumers or Flargalls or something."

"I like Flargalls," said Harry. He noticed Curtis was hiding a grin.

"Can I have some breakfast for Draco, Harry? He woke up hungry."

"He's awake?" Harry began collecting toast and eggs and bacon. "I'll take it."

"He didn't want to see you, Harry. I'm sorry." She took the plate and turned away.

Harry watched her go, mumbling beneath his breath. "Fucking snotty prick. I saved his fucking life and don't get a thank you, I get a fucking 'don’t want to see you'. Should have fucking left him to die."

Curtis snorted beside him, but stopped under Harry's quick glare, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Just serve the pancakes, Curtis."

"Sure thing, Harry."

 

After breakfast, Harry went back to his donga and wished it was possible to slam a sliding door. He still had to let Hermione know he'd arrived, so he fired up his laptop and followed Marcy's instructions to log on.

After he started writing, the words just fell out, about the cold and travelling and Rolf and Luna getting together, and the house-elf penguins and ice flowers. And Draco. Always Draco. Sharing a tent and being an arse and getting attacked by a dragon and being an arse. He read the letter back to himself and wondered for a moment if he should edit some of the Draco, but Hermione was still his best friend, so he added a note to please not share it with anyone and hit send. Then he composed quick letters for Hermione to send on to the kids. Hermione had sent him weekly emails of her own while he was on the ice, filling him in on Christmas and work and happenings around the Ministry and including notes from Rose and Hugo and James, Albus and Lily. He happily set to reading and before he'd finished with the old emails, a new one arrived.

 _That was hilarious,_ she wrote. _You should write it all down – make your cover story true._

He held onto that part of the email and ignored her pointed comments about still being obsessed with _Draco_ and what the _obsession_ possibly meant, as far as his well-hidden feelings were concerned. After lunch, he wandered into the common room and found the television on and he joined the small group watching _Die Hard_ .

"I saw you had a guitar," Marcy said, once Bruce Willis had thrown Alan Rickman off the building. "What do you like to play?"

"Oh, I don't play. Luna thought it would be a good hobby to pick up, while I'm overwintering."

"And what do you think?"

"Well, I'm not really the musical sort. I think I'd rather spend my winter become a foosball expert."

"I can help with that as well," Marcy said, and they moved to the table until Curtis walked through on his way to the mess, dragging Harry along behind him.

 

  


Chapter 6  


That was how he found himself with a routine in Mawson base. He'd wake early to help fry French toast or stir porridge, then spend his morning writing down what had happened on the trip, his observations, the stories about wiping his bum with ice (which he tried exactly once), finding magical creatures and trying to sleep during the long hours as the sun didn't set. After lunch, he'd spend time in the common room, talking to people about their jobs, playing foosball and watching movies, telling anyone who asked that it was important research. Finally, he'd help Curtis create something amazing for dinner.

Two weeks since they'd arrived back at the base and Harry had only seen Malfoy at meals. They hadn't spoken beyond 'pass the salt' or 'don't be so stingy on the bacon, Potter'. And that was fine with Harry. If that boob wasn't even going to acknowledge that Harry had saved his life, let alone say thank you, then Harry was just as happy to never speak to him again.

He and Marcy were just settling down with a movie when Malfoy wandered in.

"Don't you ever work, Marcy?"

"Is your internet connection working, Draco?" Draco must have nodded. "Then my job is done and Harry and I can watch Die Hard 5."

The couch bounced as Draco dropped into it and Harry shifted, determined not to let their bodies so much as brush against each other.

"What's the subtitle on this one?" Draco asked. "Just Die Already?"

"No. It's called Live Hard, and it certainly looks like Bruce Willis has been."

Harry found himself squashed between the two men as they bickered comfortably about movie choices.

"Honestly," Draco said. "It will have no redeeming features whatsoever."

"Did any of the Die Hard movies?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"The first one had Alan Rickman, and he has a remarkably sexy voice."

"I could never get into him. Doesn't he remind you of Snape?"

Harry gave Draco a good hit to the back to dislodge the popcorn he'd just accidentally breathed in.

"Well _now_ he does, Potter. Thanks _ever_ so." Draco turned to Marcy. "My godfather and our chemistry teacher. Bad-mannered-"

"Bad-tempered," Harry put in.

"Greasy-haired."

"Hooked nose."

"Generally unpleasant man. But he really does look a little like Alan Rickman. Urgh. I'll never unsee that, unless I have a lot of alcohol right now. Beer, Marcy? Potter?"

Harry nodded and suddenly, even though there was no apology, no acknowledgement of their trip, things were almost back to normal.

 

**April 19, 2020: My friends were trying to find a way to stop or slow what was happening and I was playing foosball and watching movies and hoping they'd manage. After a life being the one trying to save the world, the knowledge that there was nothing I could do was difficult to handle…**

After a few days searching the internet for information, Harry finally concluded he'd have to search out Draco. The man could be an arrogant prat – which wasn't at all sexy, he told himself – but he knew the science and he'd always managed to explain it in a way Harry could understand.

Draco had explained a lot of the _why_ while they were travelling, but Harry wanted to know what was going to happen. Perhaps it was a strange need to know the worst case scenario but Harry and seen and heard so much during this trip that he wanted to understand what was going to happen to all this beauty they had been exploring.

Harry cocked his head to the side as he listened to Draco list the horrible consequences of an increase in the planet's temperature. Increases in droughts and bushfires and the extinction of the polar bear were just the start. A complete change in the surface of the planet due to rising sea levels and a marked decrease in the amount of land available to grow food on also made it to the possible future.

"Think about it this way. The last time the Earth was six degrees cooler than it is now, humans almost died out. There's no reason to think that an Earth six degrees hotter won't have similar devastating effects, and that's the worst case scenario here. Plus, since we're wizards, this isn't just our children's lifetimes. It's possible that we'll see this."

"Is this a reason for us to tell the Muggles we're here? I mean, we could end the Muggles’ reliance on petrol, couldn't we? We have alternative ways to transport people and generate power and…" He stopped. Draco was shaking his head. "If we can help save the planet, then we need to get over the old prejudices."

"You really think that _that's_ what this is about?"

Harry shook his head. He'd seen Draco in this environment, heard his conversations with the Muggle scientists and seen his reaction to the falling penguin numbers.

"No. If magic could save us, you'd let it. So what is it about?"

"Magic has its own greenhouse gas, for want of a better term." Harry felt his eyes widen. "Do a spell. Something simple."

Harry looked around quickly at the room to make sure they were alone in the greenhouse. " _Wingardium leviosa >." A fallen leaf floated gently into the air._

_Draco lifted his wand and murmured " _Magus Revelio_ " and a familiar purple mist shimmered around Harry's wand and the leaf before floating up towards the roof. _

"That's…"

"The magical equivalent of a greenhouse gas. I should think of a proper name for it. Magicane or Spellion or something." His eyes were still following the purple mist that was continuing to rise from the still-floating leaf.

" _Finite incantatem_ ," Harry said, and they both watched the final burst of purple as it rose. "Don't want to name it after yourself?"

"The Malfoy name has enough against it without adding a _bad_ gas to the list."

"I suppose."

They both stared at the plants drifting in the breeze of the fan.

"Has the wizarding population increased recently? Is that why magic is suddenly making a difference in the climate?" Harry asked the next question that came to mind.

"It was the war, I think." Draco reached towards the table to pour another cup of tea for them both. "The last century was a century of strife, for the Muggles as well as us. We had three wars; Grindelwald, and then two wars with Voldemort. That increases the amount of magic going into the atmosphere, with powerful spells being used for battles and protection. The last time the wizarding world saw wars like this, the all-encompassing sort, was before the Muggles' Industrial Revolution. There was usually more political manoeuvring and individual duels. With the influx of magic from the war, in addition to the increase in Muggle emissions, well…"

Harry nodded, understanding what he was saying.

"And then there are similar reasons to the Muggles. We've created more gadgets that use magic. We have fewer wild places to absorb the emissions. We want convenience rather than being responsible."

"Why aren't we doing anything?"

"The wizarding communities in the US have started campaigns. Magical plants will absorb magical emissions, and they're encouraging trees and plants in magical households. They've started a ‘Walk, don't Apparate’ campaign, and young people are even using bicycles instead of flying."

"Flying?"

"It's hard thinking about what you _should_ be giving up, isn't it?"

"We'll need a game that's more popular than Quidditch."

"Don't go crazy, now." Draco sipped his tea. "Unfortunately, the Malfoy name is covered in so much mud that no one in the UK will listen to me. I've been trying to convince Granger, but even she doesn't want to believe me. She still thinks it's an Evil Weather Wizard."

"I've told her it's not." Harry had told her flat out that this was caused by humans, but she was still asking him to keep an eye out. "If I wasn't known as a dirty cop I'd be able to help convince people. Maybe after the furore dies down."

"Use your fame, Harry?"

"It's not like I haven't used it for a cause before. But all the war orphans have grown up now. Time to put my name to something else. We'll have to talk to Neville, so he can research which plants absorb the most emissions. Think about creating magical sinkholes on deserted islands. Make bicycles popular. Hermione will help. She'll come up with some horrible acronym like CRAP or VOMIT." He noticed Draco grinning at him. "What?"

"Is this what it means to be a Gryffindor? Jumping in head first, to try to fix things?"

"Yes. We're good to have around when you have a cause."

They sipped their tea again before Draco smiled. "CRAP. Conserving and Repairing an Ailing Planet."

"I thought Volunteers Overhauling Mother Earth Today. We can make badges."

"I love badges."

 

**May 22, 2020: With all the hobby books that Luna insisted I bring with me, it was something most classified as work that I lost myself in.**

Harry was pulling the lower layers of his outdoor clothes on ready to do his stint shovelling snow when Edward poked his head in the donga.

"No outdoor duty today, Harry. The wind is picking up and we'll be dealing with a katabatic before too long."

Harry nodded and started pulling off the thermal underwear. Rolf had said that they were lucky they weren't hit with any katabatic winds while they were skiing, but they'd seen the battering gale force winds with some regularity since they'd settled onto the base. Unfortunately, he'd been relying on the shovelling for a bit of exercise, and as the gym was in the building he was meant to be forging a path to, he would have to forego all exercise today.

The door to his donga opened again when his vest was covering his eyes and when he finished pulling it off his head he saw a familiar blond standing in the doorway. Draco's eyes were trained on his abs until he moved when they flicked up to his face.

"I heard your job for the day was cancelled," Draco said.

"Due to inclement weather."

"Good. I need a new hobby."

"Swanning around being arrogant and pretty not doing it for you anymore?"

"You think I'm pretty, Potter. That's almost sweet." Draco flicked his hair in that way he did and Harry found his mouth suddenly dry. "Yes, I need more than just being drop-dead gorgeous, so please get dressed."

Harry tried to remain unself-conscious at dressing with Draco in the room – for Merlin's sake, they'd shared a tent for most of three months – but he still turned his back as he pulled on cargo pants so that Draco wouldn't see any hint of the fact that blood was rushing to his groin.

"Why do I need to get dressed if you need a hobby? Finally falling back to makeovers?" he asked as he pulled a Canons t-shirt over his head.

"If I was, the first thing I would do is burn that wretched t-shirt. I don't think there's a more unflattering colour on the planet. I think it's the exact same colour of the safety vests we use."

"But it doesn't glow in the dark."

"I’m not so sure. Anyway, you're going to teach me to cook. Come along, Potter."

"Why isn't Curtis teaching you to cook?"

"Because he works here and you are mostly, in the words of our hosts, a slacker."

"And what are we going to cook?"

"Chocolate chip biscuits."

"Let's go then," Harry said. When Draco didn't move, he walked past him into the passageway and tried to ignore the tingling in his body at every point their bodies had brushed.

 

Two hours later, Harry wasn’t sure whether it was Draco's baking skills or his flirtations that were more distracting. Even when he'd decided to bake with Lily, it had never taken this long to get a cookie batter mixed. He knew without a doubt that Curtis would freak when he saw the flour-covered kitchen and Draco's black t-shirt was also liberally smudged with white. Measuring ingredients, the correct mixing procedure and the lack of a cauldron were all points of contention over the course of the afternoon.

And as he insisted that it didn't matter whether the cookie dough was mixed clockwise or counter-clockwise, or whether it was two turns or two hundred, he found Draco brushing his hand or popping a chocolate chip into his mouth. Worse still was the way he couldn't resist wiping a smudge of flour off Draco's nose or pressing behind him so that he could grasp Draco's arm and demonstrate the correct way to beat eggs. Finally the baking trays were in the oven and they had started cleaning up.

"Do we really have to clean?" Draco asked, to Harry's complete lack of surprise.

"Yes. It's all part and parcel. Honestly, that tent was like a military camp, yet you can't keep a kitchen neat while you bake?"

"There are good reasons for having a neat tent."

"And good reasons for a clean kitchen – hygiene, for starters."

Draco propped a hip against the counter, pelvis pressed forward and a line of flour painting his jaw. No one liked the taste of plain flour, but Harry wanted nothing more than to lick that jaw clean.

"This wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be, Potter," he finally said.

Harry wanted to disagree. Despite the hard edge of sexual frustration he was riding, he'd found the afternoon rather invigorating. He rolled his eyes and handed Draco the dirty bowl. "Lick this clean, then go get Luna to teach you to crochet."

Harry swiped two fingers across the leftover dough at the bottom of the bowl and held them to Draco's lips. Their eyes met and Harry couldn't breathe as Draco's tongue flicked out and gave a tentative lick before sucking both fingers into his mouth. A long moan escaped from the back of Draco's throat and Harry felt it in his groin. He pulled his fingers back and Draco followed them, leaning close. This was it. He was going to kiss Draco Malfoy.

"Those biscuits smell great!"

Harry jumped away at the sound of Luna's voice and quickly went back to the sink so he could hide his straining erection against the counter. Draco, damn him, looked as composed as ever.

"Thank you, Luna." There was a quiver to Draco's voice; a hint that he wasn't as composed as he was pretending to be. "But I've discovered that if cleaning is a part of cooking, then it isn't the hobby for me."

"Take him away and teach him to knit, Luna. Leave me to clean in peace."

Harry watched Draco's arse as he trailed after Luna and tried to figure out what he was going to do about Draco Malfoy. As he ran his finger through the bowl a second time, he suddenly remembered he was divorced. He could act on this attraction without guilt. The thought was almost as sweet as the cookie dough.

 

**June 5, 2020: Birthdays are celebrated enthusiastically in Antarctica. Any excuse for a party.**

"Can I make Draco's birthday cake?"

"As long as you know what he likes, Harry."

"He likes anything sweet. It's surprising he has teeth left." Harry moved around Curtis to get to the cabinet. "But dark chocolate is a favourite, so I thought a mudcake. What are you doing for dinner?"

"Well, he's a British ponce, so I thought I'd do a British ponce meal."

"Fish and chips?"

"No, you wanker. I'm doing Beef Wellington with roast vegetables. Did you hear Luna coaxed some root vegetables from the garden? It's going to be delish."

Harry smiled. He could imagine the magic she used to accomplish that. "Yorkshire puddings?" he asked, opening yet another cupboard looking for supplies.

"Of course. Can't be a British ponce without Yorkshire puddings."

"Well, as long as you stop calling us ponces, I'm sure the whole British contingent will love the meal. What's this?" He'd come across an entire shelf full of tins of treacle. "Why would anyone need that much treacle?"

"It's a bit of a luck thing. The original explorers carried it because it was a high-calorie and high-energy hit with a relatively low weight-to-energy ratio. Since then, all the Australian bases have kept it on hand, though it doesn't get used much."

Harry had a sudden flashback to Draco at the Slytherin table, digging into treacle tart, though always looking like it was a bit of a guilty pleasure. It was probably too plebian for a Malfoy, but the look on his face as he ate it was positively sinful.

"I'm not making cake. I'm making some tarts." He started pulling tins of treacle from the cupboard and putting them on the bench. "I just need to find a recipe. Back soon!"

 

"The big four-zero. Do you feel old?" Harry looked at Draco sitting at the head of the table and couldn't help but smile at the picture he made, with his flushed cheeks and the remains of a beef wellington sitting in front of him.

"Shut it, Potter, you’re the same age as me."

"No, I'm not. I have almost two months to rub it in that you're forty, and I'm planning to enjoy every second of it."

"So. Do I get presents?"

Harry watched as Draco opened a variety of chocolates and sweets, books and puzzles, the sorts of things one gives a person they didn't know very well when they bought the present. Harry placed his own gift box in front of Draco.

"Kopi Luwak! Harry, I didn't know you had it in you to buy exclusive coffee brands like -. Wait, someone told you it was cat poo coffee, didn't they?" Everyone around the table laughed. "Fine, you bought it for me to see me drink something that's already gone through the digestive system of a small mammal, but I'll have you know it's delicious, and you're going to drink some too! With the cake – now go brew some."

Draco sent Harry off with an imperious wave of his hand. He and Curtis prepared very expensive coffee for all and Harry watched as Curtis took it in to the mess to be served.

Then Curtis turned to Draco. "I'm sorry, Draco, but we didn't actually prepare a cake for you."

Harry watched Draco's face fall a bit and quickly switched off the lights and stepped forward. "I hope this will suffice," he said, placing the treacle tart with burning candles in front of the blond.

"Harry, is that-?" Draco was murmuring under the sound of eighteen voices lifted in song, but Harry still heard him and shushed him.

"Blow out the candles and make a wish!"

"You know, that doesn't look like enough tart for everyone," said Jack.

"That one's all for Draco. I have others in the kitchen."

"I'll get them, Harry."

The tarts were rescued from the kitchen and slices were served and Draco was still sitting and staring at his.

"What is this, anyway?" asked Marcy, looking at it dubiously.

"It's treacle tart," Luna replied, lifting a forkful to her mouth. "Oh, Harry, this is delicious. I haven't had treacle tart since I left school."

"Would you like me to have a taste of yours first, Draco, so you know I didn't poison it?"

"It's not that, Harry. It's just too precious to eat. It's my favourite, and I never get to eat it."

"You're not getting to eat it now." Draco smiled sheepishly and Harry thought it was an expression that looked good on him. "There's enough treacle in the cupboards to make treacle tarts for the rest of the winter. So enjoy."

Draco grinned and pressed a spoon into the middle of the tart. Harry watched as his head dropped back, a look of ecstasy on his face. Suddenly it was hard to swallow, a feeling that had become too familiar since their afternoon baking cookies. "Harry, that is divine."

Harry blushed as everyone agreed and quickly stood, needing some space from the warm body beside him. He walked to one of the small portal windows and looked out.

"Hey! What's that?"

Jack was the one that joined him and he immediately turned to the rest of the group and said, "Suit up. Looks like God decided to put on a show for Draco's birthday."

Harry followed as everyone scrambled into their outer jackets and trousers, pulling hoods up as they walked through the door. Outside it was a clear night, and very cold, but most extraordinary was the ribbon of light that played across the sky. It rippled in multi-coloured waves and Harry wanted to compare it to something from his world, like fairy lights, or magic streaming after Quidditch players, but the truth was that nothing in his world could compare to it.

"Is it the Aurora Borealis?" he asked softly, not wanting to break the quiet that had descended over the group.

"It's called the Aurora Australis here, but it's the same thing," Jack said. "It's caused by-"

"Don't," Harry interrupted. "It's magic. I don't want to explain it away." He could see Jack smile out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't look away from the show in the sky. Slowly, people started to drift back inside and only Draco remained outside with him. "Is this what you wished for?" he asked softly.

"No. But it's still a nice present." Draco took two steps and was at Harry's side, their jackets brushing. "Thank you for the treacle tart. It was the best birthday present I've ever received."

"I can't believe that!"

"It was thoughtful."

Harry glanced across at the blond and found his eyes still trained on the sky, even as the lights were beginning to fade.

"How did you even know I liked it?"

"I used to watch you a lot at school. You always had treacle tart for dessert."

"We never had it at home, so I ate it at Hogwarts whenever possible."

As they watched, the Aurora blinked out, leaving the impossibly large expanse of sky filled with stars.

"What did you wish for?" Harry asked, looking at Draco.

"This," Draco said, stepping into Harry's space and slipping a gloved hand under the hood of Harry's jacket and into his hair. Then his mouth was on Harry's and his lips were like ice until Harry started moving his and they started generating their own heat. Harry put his hands on Draco's hips, pulling him closer and wishing they didn't have so many layers between them, that he could feel Draco's hard muscles next to his own. Draco pulled away and Harry knew he followed those lips for a second before he caught himself. "Thanks, Harry," Draco said, before turning and entering the base. Harry stood where he was, letting the cold wash away the lingering lust until he couldn't feel his lips anymore and it was time to go back in.

 

Harry still sent his daily writing back to Hermione, and enjoyed her responses to it all. Like skiing across Antarctica, making Hermione laugh and understand what life on base was like through his writing was something that was just his own. He was trying to decide whether to include a kiss under the Southern Lights when the object of his rumination walked in the door and plopped himself on the bed.

"I want to reinstate question time," he said.

"Well, take it up with the Wizengamot, Draco. I wasn't the one who decided to do away with it," Harry replied, not looking away from the computer screen.

"I meant between us, you great prat."

Harry felt a pillow hit him in the back of the head and finally turned. "What is it with you and pillows as weapons?"

"Well, you're soft, Harry, so I keep the weapons soft."

Harry looked at his hands for a moment. When had he started being able to joke about weapons with Draco Malfoy. They'd be making jokes about Death Eaters and Molly killing his aunt any day now.

"Are you just here because you're bored?"

"What if I am?"

"I'm working. Please go away."

"You're not working, you're surfing the net."

"I've been reading a lot of websites about being an author and apparently surfing websites is a large part of the job description."

"That sounds like a remarkably cushy job."

"Yes. I've chosen well this time round. Now, ask your damned question."

"Did you enjoy kissing me last night?"

"Yes."

"Cool." Draco stood and moved towards the door. "Wait! Is that all?"

"For now. I'll have more questions tomorrow."

"Aren't you supposed to answer it? Did you enjoy kissing me?"

Draco paused at the door and turned back. "Yes, Harry. Very much."

Harry stared at the door for a long time after he'd gone.

 

The next day Draco was waiting on the bed when Harry returned from his shower. He acted all nonchalant, dropping his towel and reaching for clothes as if he was alone in the room. All the while, he was desperately hoping his body didn't react to the eyes that were on it.

"What was the worst moment of your life?"

Ah. There was a question sure to kill any chance of erection. "Shall I start with seventh-year and work down? Watching Severus' blood flow from his body and knowing I could do nothing to stop it. Being petrified and unable to move while Dumbledore fell from the Astronomy Tower. There was Sirius' death, Cedric's death-"

"Since the war, then. Was it Ron's death?"

"No, actually." Harry finished pulling on his tracksuit while he tried to decide if he wanted to share this story. "It happened after his death. You know… do you know about my childhood?"

"No. I didn't pick up _Wizarding Saviour: The Unauthorised Biography_."

"Oh, if I'd known, I would have grabbed you a copy for your birthday," Harry teased. "Well, it gets a lot wrong, but it presented my childhood pretty accurately. My Muggle relatives were awful. They are like the stereotype of evil Muggles that pure-blood fanatics talk about. They hated me and hated magic. My bedroom was a cupboard under the stairs. I didn't always get enough food. Teachers were told I was a pathological liar and my cousin beat up any kids who dared to be friends with me.

"That meant that Hagrid was the first person in my memory to ever show me kindness. The cake he brought with him when he collected me was the first birthday present I remembered receiving. And Ron was my first friend. That first Christmas, at Hogwarts, Mrs. Weasley sent me my first Christmas present, and after spending time with them over the summer, I started to think of them as the family I wished I could have. By the time the Triwizard Tournament had finished, it was pretty clear they thought of me as family, as well. I guess I’m trying to show how important that family connection was to me."

"I understand."

"Well, after everything happened, Skeeter starting printing rumours that I was the one who cursed Ron and Ginny kicked me out of the house. I was cleared of killing Ron, but the rumours about my role in the whole matter were still seeing print. Then it was Ron's birthday, and there was a memorial at the church near his home. I went along. I wanted to sit with the kids and make sure they were okay."

"Not the smartest decision you ever made?"

"No, I don't suppose it was. I remember everyone fell silent when I walked in. Hermione looked happy to see me, but everyone else was glaring. It was Molly – Mrs. Weasley – who stood up and walked down the aisle to me. She didn't even bother finding somewhere private, just stopped in front of me, with everyone listening in. 'You're not family anymore. You're not welcome.' That was it. She turned and walked back to her family and I was no longer part of it."

"What did you do?"

"What could I do? Hermione was looking at me. So were Lily and Al. But everyone else who was part of the only family I'd ever known had turned their backs. It was like one of those tribal rituals where everyone turns their back on you and after that, you're just dead. People look straight through you and turn their back if you try to talk to them. It was like I died along with Ron – the only reason Ginny still talks to me is because of the kids. Anyway, I turned and walked out and that was it. I was an orphan again."

"And these are the people you're trying to protect?"

"They're not wrong for despising me, Draco. They think that Ron is dead because of me. And he is. It was my inaction that caused his death, and if I could not talk to myself, I would."

"You can't hold onto that for the rest of your life."

Harry's face twisted into a humourless smile. "I think you'll find I can."

"No. You can't. You'll turn into a bitter, twisted shell of a man. A humourless old bastard, like Severus Snape. Do you want that sort of person raising your children? Do you want to teach them that there's no joy in life?"

"No," he said quietly, wondering when Malfoy had gotten so smart. "You sound like you're talking from experience."

"I let Death Eaters into the school. My actions caused the death of Albus Dumbledore. I talked Crabbe and Goyle into going with me to the Room of Requirement that night, and Crabbe never walked out again. I've had plenty of my own demons to deal with. I found forgiveness."

"I don't think the Weasleys are going to forgive me for this."

"No, Harry. You need to forgive yourself."

"Why are you doing this for me? Acting as an amateur therapist?"

"I like you?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "Don't believe that one. Okay. I like Albus and I don't want his dad to end up a basket case."

"If you're so big on forgiveness, why did it take so long for you to forgive me for the dragon incident?"

Draco stood at that question and moved to the door. "Ask me that on Midwinter. It's a Midwinter sort of story."

Harry watched him go before turning to the computer. He didn't have to send it to Hermione, but it was time to at least write down the story of Ron's death.

 

**June 21, 2020: Midwinter is a bit of a big deal around here…**

Harry slipped through Draco's door at 2:40 on Midwinter morning. There was very little light in their rooms, so he whispered a Lumos and stood for a moment, admiring the way the silvery light of the spell made Draco's hair gleam. He stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Draco." He rested his hand on Draco's bare arm. "Draco. Wake up."

He smiled at the grumpy noises the man made as he shifted in his sleep. "Draco." He poked Draco under the ribs and suddenly found himself pressed against the wall, his wrist tight in Draco's hand.

Harry watched as the fear and determination left Draco's eyes and he came fully awake. "Shit, Potter. You don't wake up a war veteran like that, which you should bloody well know."

"I'm sorry."

"I'll forgive you if you tell me what the hell is wrong."

"It is currently the exact moment of the winter solstice and you said you'd answer my question."

"By 'exact moment' you mean?"

"2.44 am."

"This couldn't have waited until after breakfast?" Harry shook his head. "Fine." Harry felt the bed shift under him and suddenly it was large enough for both of them to lie on. "Get under the covers or you'll get cold."

Harry slipped under the quilt next to Draco and slipped his hands under his head. They both stared up at the ceiling while Harry tried to decide how to start this conversation. In the end, it was Draco who spoke first.

"Did you know that my biggest fear growing up was Muggles?"

"What?"

"You've never heard that we hate what we most fear, Harry? Or have you never feared anything?"

"No one blames you for hating Voldemort, I guess." Harry made light of it. "Why fear Muggles?"

"My father told me that, although we were superior, the Muggles had the numbers and they could overwhelm us. Ironically, he told me that the Muggles would hate us because they feared us, and they would hunt us down if they knew what we could do.

"Even without magic, they can fly and travel at great speeds and explore places like this and tame them. Then there were stories about Muggles coming in the night and stealing a wizard's magic for their own child. I'd never seen a Muggle-born, let alone a Muggle, before I started at Hogwarts. How was I supposed to be anything _except_ scared?"

"And then you became a Death Eater."

"Yes. And learned that there are far scarier things in the world than Muggles, and that my father invites them into our own home."

They both paused at that and Harry wondered if Draco was seeing the same images as he was: prisoners in the dungeons of the Manor and Bellatrix walking through it like she owned the place. He thought Draco probably had far worse memories of the Manor than he did.

"It didn't take long to learn that lesson, but I couldn't do anything about that realization. Where would I go? What would happen to my mother if I left?"

Harry wanted to say that he could have chosen differently, that Harry would have protected him, but the reality was that he’d been stuck in a tent that year and barely able to protect himself. And if Draco hadn't been in the Manor that day, if Narcissa hadn't still been worried about him during the battle, then Voldemort would still be alive and both Harry and Draco would probably be dead.

"I came out of the war wanting freedom. I didn't want to rely on my parents, my father, any more, but for a long time I still did everything he told me to. I took the job at Gringotts and married Astoria and lived in the Manor, because I didn't know how to survive alone and I hated every second of it. So when I talked Tori into moving to California with me and living with Muggles, it was huge.

"I spent the first year by myself. I'd never been by myself before and that terrified me. And it exhilarated me. And as I started making decisions for myself, I swore I'd never be dependent on anyone again."

"You know that makes no sense, don't you? You rely on all of us on the ice – I'm sure you told me that yourself at some stage."

"But you rely on me as well. That's a give and take, a reciprocal relationship. This is just you saving my life yet again and me owing you another life debt."

Harry snorted. Honestly, the whole idea of a life debt was ridiculous and Harry opened his mouth to say so, but Draco was continuing.

"I think what made me more angry was that I couldn't rely on myself. I fought in a war, I lived in a house that had Lord Voldemort as a regular visitor. I know how to control my fears and take action when I need to. But I froze out there. All this time proving to myself that I could be strong and independent, but when it comes right down to it, I'm still getting saved by Harry bloody Potter."

"It was a dragon, Draco. I think that comes under extraordinary circumstances."

"You were running away."

"Obviously my sense of self-preservation is greater than yours."

The conversation paused again as they stared up at the ceiling. Harry found his eyes growing heavy.

"Why is it a Midwinter sort of conversation?"

"You're meant to leave the old things behind at Midwinter so that you can start anew as the sun starts to return. The anger was stupid. I needed to leave it behind."

"I thought you already had."

"Not properly. For example, I never said thank you."

"No. You didn't." Harry's words were starting to slur and he couldn't open his eyes.

He felt lips on his cheek. "Thank you, Harry," whispered across his ear as he drifted off to sleep.

 

After talking until, well, when dawn would normally arrive, Harry and Draco both slept late and Harry found himself having to ignore Luna's knowing look as he snuck out of Draco's room in his pyjamas. He quickly joined things in the kitchen and was pressed into making treacle tarts for the big party.

"Is there a ritual or something? Lighting candles or whatever?" he asked.

"Not really. It's more that there's a lot of drinking, though the fact that this is the mid-way point is really appreciated. The sun won't rise today, or for a few days yet, but it's on its way."

"I always thought that in winter it would just stay dark with no sun."

"It's a common misconception, and if we were at the South Pole, it would be true. They go without sun at all for four months. But here on the edges of the continent, it's more a perpetual twilight during what would be daylight hours anywhere else. And then an hour of sunlight, then two, until we're back to just an hour of night. And today starts that journey back."

"And so, today we just have a big piss-up to celebrate the coming death of the winter king and the birth of the sun?"

"No. We have a big piss-up because we're stuck in the coldest place on earth for months on end, and this marks the half-way point of our having to be stuck in this cabin. It really does help alleviate the cabin fever. Now. More treacle tarts! And make sure you leave the recipe stuck in the big book." He pointed at the ring-binder that contained the best recipes from each year as different chefs discovered new ways to prepare frozen and canned foods. "I want next season's mob to learn the joys of the treacle tart as well."

"Yes, boss!" Harry said and hummed happily as he went back to the pastry.

 

Before the official party started, Luna gathered them all in her room and blew out all the candles before travelling through all their rooms and lighting a candle in each with her wand. Last year, he hadn't celebrated Yule. It was so close to Christmas back home that they were merged in his mind, but Ginny had always done this same little ritual of dousing the lights and re-lighting each with her wand. When the kids were little, they'd all begged for a go, and he'd shared a smile with Ginny as they each wrapped a tiny hand around the wand under Ginny's firmer grasp.

He ignored the familiar fist around his heart and tried not to imagine how his children were celebrating Midsummer this year. It was strange to think of them at home, probably taking advantage of the hot weather to fly as much as they could, while he was in a place where the sun wouldn't even rise above the horizon today. He glanced at Draco and saw that his eyes were far away as well and wondered if the ritual was something all witches did and if Scorpius had stood beside Astoria or Narcissa and delighted in the faint brush of magic as each candle was lit.

"We're half way through," Luna said. "The sun is on its way back to us, and it brings hope for a new start with it."

The words were different to Ginny's, but they held the same sentiment - a sentiment expressed by Draco just that morning.

"We leave behind us the things we no longer desire in our lives. Hatred will die here. Anger will die here. Fear will die here." Luna looked at Rolf with the last statement and Harry wondered suddenly whether Luna was ready to move forward. "We will take with us love and courage and forgiveness as we step forward with the new sun. The wheel turns and brings with it a new life."

Harry had written his letter to Hermione and he planned to leave his guilt about Ron behind this year. It was the only way he'd be able to move forward. He stepped forward when Luna gestured, and lit the candles in his room with the already lit candle and followed as they went to the rest of their rooms.

He watched Draco's face, gilded by the candlelight, as he went through the ritual. He would let go of the fear and guilt so there was room for something new. It was going to be a good year.

 

After the candles were lit, they walked out as a group to the mess hall. Curtis had set their food out as a buffet, and roast meats and vegetables, curries, and stews were set on one table, with pavlova, treacle tarts and fruit salad on the other. Draco moved straight to the dessert table and Harry was glad it was Luna that gave him a look and steered him towards the real food.

"Has everyone brought any half-finished bottles of liquor?" Jack asked. Everyone cheered and Harry held up a half-full bottle of the Macallan that Hermione had given him as a going away present. "Our goal, for this Midwinter night, is to finish those things that are half-done so that we can start anew in the second half of the year. Which means, ladies and gentlemen, that all these bottles need to be empty before the end of the night!"

Jack tipped his head back and began chugging on what looked like rum, as the entire group cheered.

"Make sure you eat before you start drinking," Edward, the base medic yelled over the cheers. "I don't treat stupid!"

Harry grabbed a plate heaped with as many carbohydrates as he thought his body could handle and sat with Marcy, Edward and Jack, pouring each of them a measure of his scotch.

"Sharing with everyone, Potter?" Draco asked from behind him, and he kicked the chair beside him out and poured a shot into Draco's glass as well.

Harry settled back happily, letting the sounds of the conversations wash around him. He liked it here. It reminded him of the camaraderie of war, or of the Aurors, but with less of the constantly putting your life on the line. When your life was in danger in Antarctica, it was because you were trying to challenge yourself, not because someone wanted you dead. He sipped the whisky and poured Draco another measure.

"This is good stuff, Harry."

"Yeah, McGonagall got me onto it originally. A, uh, graduation gift."

Draco just raised an eyebrow and took more time to sip at the next drink.

"Who's McGonagall?" Marcy asked.

"The Deputy Headmistress at our boarding school. Potter here was her favourite."

"Quite clearly, if she was gifting him with this divine drop," Jack said.

"She taught my parents." Harry felt the blush spreading over his cheeks. He didn't want to have to explain McGonagall or his parents or anything like that. Sometimes, having everyone know your life story was easier than the alternative. "I guess she had a soft spot."

"Your parents couldn't have given you the eighteen year old Scotch?"

Long fingers were on his thigh in a second and squeezing lightly in a reassurance Harry didn't really need any more, but was welcome nevertheless.

"My parents died when I was still in nappies. A car accident." He resorted to that old lie of his uncle's, despite how much it hurt to disparage his mother's sacrifice. The music roared from the other corner of the mess hall, cutting off the noises of sympathy from the other people at his table. He grabbed Draco's hand off his thigh and dragged him to his feet. "Let's dance."

It didn't take long for Luna and Rolf to join them and soon all the tables were shoved aside and twenty people were drinking too much, singing badly and writhing in time with songs that had been popular when Harry had just graduated and was spending too much time in Muggle nightclubs.

"I feel like I'm twenty again," he murmured in Draco's ear as they ground together in each other's arms. He could feel his cock getting hard as Draco slipped a thigh between his legs. "Remind me that I’m almost forty, and hard-ons on the dance floor are inappropriate."

Draco's answer was to grab Harry's arse and rub his own erection against Harry's. "And I'm already forty," he murmured with a grin.

"Is it a terrible thing that I want to drag you to my room and bury myself in you?"

"Only if you don't let me bury myself in you in the morning."

Harry groaned and suddenly he was kissing Draco Malfoy in the middle of a makeshift dance floor with all their friends and colleagues – who they were living with – watching.

"If you were sober, would it make a difference?" Harry didn't want to ask, didn't want to open up the chance that Draco would pull away and say that drunk sex was a damned stupid idea. Obviously, Harry knew it was a bad idea, but he'd wanted Draco since the first time he saw the man washing himself with snow, so he didn't care about his high blood alcohol level. Still, he had to give Draco the chance to back out if he wanted to.

Harry felt a wave of magic – wandless and wordless – move through him and suddenly he was sober. He caught Draco's eyes, amazed at how well they fitted together, how it was the barest tilt of his chin to meet those eyes and see that Draco was now sober as well.

"No difference whatsoever," Draco said, and he emphasized his statement by threading his fingers through Harry's hair and hauling him into a kiss that made Harry feel drunk again.

"You both have a room, you know," Marcy's voice interrupted them. "You could go to one of them."

"They can't leave unless their bottles are finished," said Jack. "You can go outside and make a sacrifice to the snow gods if you like."

There was barely half a glass left in his bottle of the Macallan, so Harry grabbed it and chugged half before handing the bottle to Draco, who grinned as he finished it. "Good night, all!" Harry said, as he dragged Draco away.

The walk to Draco's room seemed to be too long. Harry stopped every couple of steps to press Draco against a bit of wall and undo a couple of buttons, or rub a hand over Draco's groin. At one point, Draco pressed him against the wall, dropped to his knees and mouthed his cock through the denim of his jeans. Harry was left pressing his hips mindlessly forward as a word escaped his throat. And it was a word, damn it, not some incomprehensible sound that he couldn't control.

"Keep moving, Draco," Harry said, pulling the man to his feet.

They stumbled the last few steps to Draco's room where his bed was still engorged and definitely large enough for their needs. Draco's mouth was on his as they fell onto the bed, and he tasted of whiskey and treacle and it was like ambrosia to Harry.

"Are we really-?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Draco replied. He didn't stop relieving Harry of his clothes. "After close to thirty years of unresolved sexual tension, we're finally, well, resolving it."

"There was sexual tension when we were eleven?" Harry asked, his fingers at the zip of Draco's trousers.

"I was gorgeous at eleven."

"You were pointy at eleven," Harry replied as he pushed Draco's trousers and pants over slim hips and to the floor.

" _Gorgeously_ pointy."

"Uh-huh," Harry murmured. He'd found that pushing down trousers left him on his knees in front of Draco and he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the pointy hips, which were, as it turned out, _gorgeously pointy_. He helped Draco step out of his shoes and the pool of clothing at his feet and wondered idly where their shirts had ended up. His mouth moved down, licking a trail down one thigh, and then the other, marvelling at how very _blond_ the hair that curled around the base of Draco's cock was. One hand wrapped around Draco's hips, fingers digging into his arse, as Harry wrestled with the zip of his jeans. He growled in frustration – his cock was so hard that he was desperate to release it from its confines. And the musky smell of Draco's cock, the sweat and the bead of moisture on its tip that Harry wanted to lick off, but was avoiding to tease Draco a little more – all of that just made him harder.

"Harry, please," Draco said. His voice was breathy and unsteady and his fingers threaded through Harry's hair, not pushing, not demanding, just clenching as he waited for what came next.

Finally, Harry managed to free his cock and as he wrapped his hand around it, he wrapped his mouth around Draco's cock, enjoying the sharp intake of breath above him. It had been so long since he'd had a cock in his mouth, since before his marriage, in fact, and for a moment he just paused, enjoying the weight of it on his tongue and the way it filled his mouth.

Then Draco's hips began to move and Harry concentrated on sucking and licking and _feasting_ on the column of flesh in front of him. He released his own cock so that he could ghost his fingers over Draco's balls, then nudge his legs apart to begin stroking across the tight, puckered hole behind them.

" _Accio lube_ ," Draco gasped out, and dropped the tube into Harry's hand.

"Muggle?" Harry asked as he popped the top and squeezed some across his fingers.

"Just the tube, for show. It's my own mix." Draco took a step back and sat on the bed. "I'm afraid of my legs giving in," he said with a shy grin.

Harry pushed him back onto the bed and knelt between his legs. "This is much better." He swallowed Draco's cock down again and eased one slick finger into his arse.

Harry liked the way Draco writhed under him; the man didn't stay still, he thrust up and pushed down and clenched and arched and didn't seem at all embarrassed at the moans and growls and gasps that escaped his lips.

Draco's fingers tugged at Harry's hair. "Too much," he said, and Harry moved back, keeping his fingers working steadily in Draco's arse. "Want you in me. Now."

More blood surged into his cock than Harry had thought possible and he quickly grabbed the discarded tube and squeezed far too large a dollop onto his cock. It was cold against his overheated skin but Draco sat up and wrapped a hand around him and he was beyond hot and cold, beyond anything but the pure sensation of bloody _Malfoy's_ hand stroking his cock.

"Oh, fuck," he said, before surging forward into Draco in one long thrust. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that it was too fast, too hard, but Draco only pushed up to meet him with a soft sound of pure pleasure. They paused and Harry rested his forehead for a moment on Draco's before pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss against those thin lips.

"Gods, Harry. _Move_."

Harry obeyed, pulling almost completely out of Draco before pushing back in. He kept his strokes long and steady, knowing that if he sped up, this culmination of a thirty-year obsession would have him spilling himself inside the tight heat in a matter of seconds. Instead, he focused on Draco, angling his hips until he found the spot that made Draco gasp, wrapping his still slick hand around Draco and setting up a rhythm much faster than his hips. He watched Draco's face, flushed with pleasure and with a thin sheen of sweat beginning to bead. His hair was mussed and he kept up a litany of pleas and curses, of _more_ and _fuck_ and _harder, please harder_.

Finally, Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's hips and twisted, flipping them both so he was on top.

"Should've known you'd be a pushy bottom," he murmured.

"If you were doing your job, I wouldn't need to be," Draco said with a teasing grin. Then he began to move. He'd obviously lost any patience he'd had, because he moved hard and fast, rolling his hips in a way that left Harry gasping for breath. Harry grabbed Draco's cock and it was just one, firm stroke and the blond was spilling himself over Harry's chest, shuddering and shaking and his muscles rippling around Harry's cock.

Harry grabbed Draco's hips and pulled him down, desperate now to find his pleasure as Draco's cock kept convulsing. It didn't take long, thrusting up into that tight heat, pulling Draco down with a ferocity that was sure to leave the man sore and bruised. Harry was coming, a howl on his lips as all the build-up and frustration was released into Draco's hot arse and nothing was left except pleasure and a languid heat that seeped into his bones and left him feeling like he'd never be cold again, even if he were to stand up and walk outside now and lie down on the ice naked.

Draco slumped forward and rested his head on Harry's chest, allowing Harry to press a kiss to that soft, blond hair.

"You – I – mer." Harry cleared his throat. "That was amazing," he finally settled on.

"Yes, I was," Draco said and Harry could feel the grin against his skin. "Now, shut up and let me sleep."

"Draco, I know you're delicate, but you're not so light that I can sleep with you on my chest all night," Harry said, even though a part of him really wanted to.

"Don't care about you," Draco grumbled, but he rolled off Harry and performed some cleaning charms for them both, before they curled into one another and, for the second night a row, fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning Harry woke Draco up and, as promised, let Draco pound him into the mattress. He enjoyed every minute of it.

 

  


Chapter 7  


**July 3, 2020: The ice makes strange bedfellows and I found myself growing closer to the Muggles we were living with.**

Harry woke up to hair tickling his nose. Two weeks after Midwinter, he was becoming used to it. Draco slept deeply and made little 'whuffing' noises with each exhale. He always wound up with his head tucked into Harry's neck and the small puffs of breaths often left a damp spot where the air condensed. Their legs wound up tangled and Harry usually had an arm across his stomach, fingers curling around his ribs even in sleep. Two weeks, and it felt familiar, and right, and made him want so much more.

He lifted a hand and smoothed Draco's hair away from his nose, before he sneezed and woke the blond up. He had no idea what time it was, but it felt early, so he closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. He couldn't. His right hand felt like it was asleep and he squeezed his fingers carefully, trying to get blood flowing past the spot where Draco was lying on his arm. He was very careful not to move too much, though. He didn't want to wake Draco up.

So many tender feelings - he tried to tell himself it was ridiculous. He hadn't slept in his own bed since Midwinter and every morning he stayed carefully still, while his fingers tingled and his nose tickled and he pressed soft kisses to equally soft, blond hair.

Draco's alarm went off and Harry picked up his wand and shook it, turning off the blaring sound coming from the radio alarm clock. Draco began to stir in his arms.

"Good morning," he murmured as Draco stretched beside him.

Draco pressed lips to his chest, then his neck, ear, face and finally lips. He grinned as he clambered over Harry to climb out of bed. Harry had no idea where this playful Draco came from. It was not what he expected, but Draco _was_ playful. He was funny and tender and horribly sarcastic and cutting when he wanted to be. He was sexy and tousled in bed and groomed and together when out of it.

Harry followed him out of bed and slipped out the door and into the bathroom, smiling when Draco slipped in behind him. Harry dressed in his own donga and walked to the mess to join Curtis frying bacon. He hummed as he scrambled eggs and began to sing along as the radio started to play Lady Gaga. Curtis really did have a great music collection.

Draco wandered into the mess ten minutes after he did, and it was obvious those entire ten minutes had been taken up styling his hair. He pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek as Harry served up pancakes and tinned fruit and it was the same as the day before. And the day before that. Two weeks, and they were in a relationship. The circumstances were extreme, and isolated, and this was so far from real life as to be, well, on a different continent from reality. But Harry didn't care. He'd have a broken heart at the end of it or he wouldn't, but as he watched Draco sit beside Jack and send the man a withering glare that was obviously a response to a question about Harry himself, judging by the look they both threw him, Harry knew he was ready to give trust and love another go.

When he got back to his donga, he logged on to the laptop and sent Hermione an email about Ron.

 

**July 10, 2020: You think that the people around you are enough, that the circumstances have suddenly made you closer than brothers, but not being able to talk face to face with friends and family kills you.**

Every day he didn't hear from Hermione left Harry feeling more and more out of sorts. He still spent his nights in Draco's bed and his evenings watching the first season of Farscape settled on the couch with Marcy, but he was snapping at everyone. It was obvious that Marcy thought he should love the show, but he just couldn't get into it.

"Can't you pay attention, Harry?" Marcy said.

"What am I meant to be paying attention to?"

"They're introducing the big bad of the season. Scorpius."

"What?" Harry started to pay attention at that name and Draco stirred from the foosball table to walk towards the couch. "Who's the big bad?"

"Scorpius." Marcy gestured to the screen at a very ugly monster of some sort, wearing leather bondage gear.

"And that's Scorpius?" Harry asked.

Marcy nodded and Draco made a slightly strangled sound. The name _Draco_ was unusual enough for the Antarctic team, so Draco told everyone his son was called Samuel. Marcy was looking confused at the interest they were taking in this particular character.

"Alright," Draco said. "I'll watch it."

"Oh, we should start at the beginning for you then. Season one."

"There is no way I am sitting through that crap a second time." Harry stood abruptly. "I'm going to check my emails."

He could hear their conversation as he walked out, with Draco's explanation of cabin fever and Marcy's disbelieving snort.

"You just need to try harder to please the man, Draco. Perhaps I could join in, since you're not doing your job." Harry glanced around and saw that Marcy's arm was around Draco's shoulder.

"I'm still in the fucking room, Marcy. At least wait ‘til I'm out the door before you start trying to get down his pants."

Harry saw the younger man jump and snatch his arm away as he turned and stomped towards the annexe. A part of him wished Draco had jumped up to chase him, but he'd got all his outdoor clothes on with no one stepping into the room. He told himself he needed to cool off and Draco was right to leave him to it, but the knowledge that he was still inside settling into watching bad sci-fi television while he seethed just made him seethe all the more.

He stomped out the door and headed for the storage shed to find Jack.

"Give me something to do," he said when he arrived.

"Curtis needs the next lot of food moved and unpacked. Boxes of food are there and you know where the sleds are. Knock yourself out."

The physical work of moving boxes and dragging them to the kitchen reminded him of being out on the ice, skiing from one side of the continent to the other. As he stacked boxes outside the kitchen door, he enjoyed the feel of being overheated in his many layers and tipped his hood back off his head.

"Don't get sick," Jack said as he dragged his own sled up to the kitchen.

Harry shook his head and headed back to the shed for the next line of boxes. Waiting on Hermione's reply was leaving him with nervous energy sitting deep in his gut and the pure physicality of lifting heavy objects and putting them down again was starting to ease the worry.

Merlin. He'd have to apologise to Marcy, and probably Draco as well, given how short he'd been over the last few days. He hadn't even told Draco what he was worried about. He opened the kitchen door and started carrying boxes into the pantry. He avoided looking over at the common room, but he saw that Draco was no longer there and Marcy was leaning over a computer with Edward, obviously fixing something.

"Thanks, Harry," Jack said as he walked past him. "But, I thought you said there wouldn't be problems with Draco."

"There isn't, Jack. The problem's with me - I'm waiting on some news from home."

"Then you should stop being a dick and go apologise to the boy."

"That's where I'm going."

He quickly stripped the layers off and went towards his donga to grab a towel for the shower. He slid opened the door and stopped at the sight of a sleeping blond on his bed.

He knelt beside Draco and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered into Draco's ear, knowing he'd have to apologise again once he woke up properly. But Draco stirred and turned, reaching to stroke Harry's cheek. There was a question in his eyes. "I'm sorry for being an arse," Harry said again.

"You should apologise to Marcy, not me."

"I've been an arse for a week, not just today."

"But I've still been getting laid, so I don't care as much." They both grinned and Harry felt the last of the tension drain away from him. "Ready to tell me what the problem's been? Or is it just cabin fever?"

"I wrote to Hermione on Midwinter. I mean, the day after Midwinter."

"You write to Hermione every day."

"Not since then. She hasn't replied."

"You're worried that something's happened?" Harry just shook his head. "You wrote something interesting then. Us?"

"No. Hermione would never begrudge me happiness. Or, never before, anyway." Harry slumped down onto the ground properly, leaning back against the bed. Draco's hand snaked down onto his chest and a pointy chin rested on his shoulder. "I told her about Ron."

The arm tightened momentarily and thin lips pressed a kiss to his neck. "She doesn't blame you; Granger's too smart for that. She just needs time."

"What if she does blame me?"

"Then she's not as smart as I thought, because it's still not your fault."

Harry pasted a cheeky grin on his face and turned to Draco. "And you'll still love me, right?"

Draco didn't grin, didn't laugh. His grey eyes stayed serious as he said, "Right." Harry returned the chaste kiss and it was only then that Draco grinned. "If you're through thinking with your arse, how about you put it to better use."

Harry climbed up onto the bed. "What did you have in mind?"

 

For what felt like the hundredth time since he wrote to Hermione, Harry dug out the box of records he'd illegally confiscated from the Ministry. He'd read them all time and again. Some of the bank records he didn't understand, but memo after memo of disappearing informants, ruined busts and missing evidence certainly painted the picture he needed.

After close to two years of reading and re-reading everything in the box, Harry thought he'd memorized much of it. He didn't know if he was torturing himself, or if he felt some kind of sick serenity from turning over page after page of Ron's transgressions.

He tried to tell himself that writing to Hermione was the right thing to do, but, quite frankly, he wondered if it was only the right thing for himself, not the right thing for Hermione. Was he just trying to absolve himself of blame over Ron's death? Maybe she would have been happier not knowing what Ron had done.

He read the memos again, looking for something out of the ordinary. There should have been something that proved Ron was innocent; the Ron he knew fought crime – he didn't protect it. But every piece of paper in the box showed the truth – right down to the false information that only Ron and his partner were told, that still found its way into the wrong hands.

He felt that familiar anger growing, that hadn't been there since he started training for Antarctica. There was a loud crash and when he looked the framed photo of Hermione, Ron and himself at their wedding was shattered and on the other side of the room from where it started. He didn't know if it was his magic out of control or if he'd picked the damned thing up and thrown it without realizing. Looking around the room there was nothing else out of place, so it was likely he'd thrown it; magic would have shattered every picture frame.

He put the broken glass in the bin and sent a Vanishing charm at the area to pick up any tiny slivers. Then he propped the picture on the desk. It was a Muggle picture that had been sent out to Hermione's family, and their faces were frozen in happiness. Hermione stared straight at the camera, face glowing and radiant in what he was told was an _ivory_ dress. Harry and Ron were on either side of her, and had shed their jackets in the summer heat, standing in shirtsleeves and waistcoats. Ron was looking down at Hermione, seeming to be amazed that she'd agreed to marry him. Harry could see he was looking at both of them. He remembered that day, his heart bursting with the knowledge that they'd done it. They'd fought a war and defeated Voldemort and come out the other end with the ability to be happy and in love and get married and start families and build a life away from all the pain of just a couple of years before.

The expression on his own face was hope.

He turned to the box and shoved papers back into it, before pushing it under his desk. He wondered where the hell that hope had gone.

 

Hermione's reply finally came the next day. It was entirely possible that she'd written more than one draft, probably more than two. Her first sentence was "I don't blame you" and from there she went to, "but I can't believe you didn't tell me." Then she reacted exactly the same way as she had when Harry had been accused. _I know Ron, I have faith in him. He didn't do this._

His relief at finally hearing from her was tempered by her obstinate belief in Ron's innocence.

"I don't like wording this so bluntly, Harry, but Ron's dead. Does it matter that she hasn't accepted his guilt? Would it matter if she never did?"

Harry flicked his wrist and sent the little football through the goal. "I guess not. It's just… she's meant to be the smart one, isn't she?"

"In the Golden Trio?" Draco tried to sneer at the old nickname that the _Prophet_ had made popular at the end of the war, but Harry could see the humour in his eyes. "I'm positive she was the _only_ smart one."

"Hey!" Harry refocused on the game, blocking Draco's attempt at goal and sending the ball back down the table. "I did manage to, you know…"

"Die when you were supposed to?"

"I thought you hadn't read my biography?"

"I hadn't read _that_ one. Anyway, what difference does her intelligence make when it comes to emotions? She loved Ron in one way or another for thirty years. How easy was it for you to believe it was him?"

Harry was distracted and the ball went past his goal keeper. "Someone should design this with Quidditch."

"How do you represent the Snitch? The Bludgers?"

"Charm the Bludgers to randomly aim at the fliers and don't worry about the Snitch. It becomes all about getting the Quaffle through three possible goals at either end."

"You should design that when you get back," Draco said, giving a knob a twist and sending the ball past all of Harry's players. "You've grown out of Boy-Who-Lived, so toy designer might be something you can be when you grow up."

"Thanks."

"Either Hermione will get there or she won't, Harry, but that can't change how you see yourself. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah." Harry sent the ball careening through Draco's goal. "Why do we always have these deep conversations over the foosball table?"

"We're men, Harry. We can't handle our emotions if we actually have to look at each other while we discuss them."

"I'll remember that for future conversations with my sons."

"You should. It will be a good way to test that Quidditchball table you're designing."

 

The next day, Draco wandered into the kitchen while Harry was stirring oregano into a spaghetti sauce. Harry sensed the blond's presence before he felt the hand on his lower back. He scooped some of the sauce onto a spoon and held it up for Draco to taste.

This is nice, he thought, as Draco took the spoon into his mouth. Almost domestic. He pressed a kiss to Draco's lips, tasting tomato and herbs and enjoying the way Draco stepped into the kiss, deepening it for a moment before stepping back.

"It needs more salt," Draco said. "And maybe basil."

"Dried basil always seems…" Harry made an unsure noise in the back of his throat.

"Oh, stop it, Potter." Draco grabbed the jar of dried basil and added two big teaspoons to the pot, letting Harry stir it in. "Now taste."

This time Draco was the one who held a spoon up and as Harry tasted, he found himself wondering if he should feel embarrassed by this obvious display of affection on show for anyone who walked through the mess and probably everyone sitting in the common room as well. His hand was resting on Draco's hip and he remembered that he used to be more private. Of course, in the past, he was the most famous person in his community. Here, he really was just Harry.

"Okay. The basil works. Needs more salt as well." Harry went back to fine tuning the taste of his spaghetti sauce. "Were you looking for me for a reason?"

Draco hauled himself onto the counter and started drumming his heels against the cupboard. "No. I'm just bored."

"So you thought you'd help in the kitchen? That's great, the dishes need doing."

Draco stuck out his tongue. "It's not my day. In fact, I think it's Rolf's. I want you to amuse me."

"Sweetie, I'm kinda in the middle of something here," Harry said, using the exact same voice he used to use on his kids. "Why don't you go watch a movie?"

"I don’t want to watch a movie."

"You could look over your research."

"I'm waiting on responses. Besides, I’m _bored_ with it. I need a break." Draco's smile was sly and seductive and Harry knew exactly what he wanted to do to relieve his boredom. Draco grabbed Harry's belt as he moved past. "Come to my room and amuse me, Harry."

"You could try reading a book."

Draco dropped his head back and let out an almighty sigh. "I've _read_ all my books. That's why I'm here talking to you."

"You realize you sound just like my daughter used to, when she was trying to get me to have a tea party with her." Harry grinned at Draco's glare. "Borrow something from Luna; all her books have gorgeous young men on the covers. Or go see if I've got anything you want to read. I need to finish dinner."

"Fine," Draco said with a huge expulsion of air, sounding very put out. But he gave Harry's butt a squeeze as he walked past and Harry went back to singing along with Abba.

 

It was a couple of hours later when Harry was at a point that he could leave the kitchen. The large pot of spaghetti sauce was simmering happily and Harry had whipped up both chocolate cake and the pavlova that all the Australians adored. Finally, he set a chicken soup to simmer for Curtis, Marcy and Jack, who were all in bed with a bad chest infection.

It seemed like everyone on the base that wasn't sick in bed came past to taste or chat and thank Harry for taking over the cooking while Curtis was sick. Luna joined him to help with chopping and dishes, but Harry didn't see Draco again. He must have found something to read.

"I'm just going to go find Draco while everything simmers. You shouldn't need to touch anything, just leave it be," Harry told Luna as he slipped his apron over his head. "I'll be back in time to help serve."

Luna gave him an airy wave and he headed towards his donga.

Harry poked his head into Draco's room and was surprised to see he wasn't there. Normally, the poncy git preferred his own room since he'd softened the mattress just _so_ and the bed was wider and the pillows perfect and the linen felt so smooth against his skin. He smiled fondly as he remembered Draco's explanation of why they never slept in Harry's room. He decided to try his own; maybe it had taken Draco two hours to find a book he liked. Or maybe he'd logged onto the computer, or decided to masturbate in Harry's bed. That thought brought a smile to Harry's face.

Unfortunately, it wasn't what he found when he slid open his own door. Instead he saw his box of records – his box of _Ron's_ records – spread all over his bed and a blond head bent over the paperwork, tongue protruding slightly past his teeth as he scribbled into a notebook.

"What the FUCK are you doing?"

Draco jumped at the sound of his voice. "Harry, I-"

Harry twisted his wrist and his wand was in hand and Draco immediately shut up, fear in his eyes. Harry knew his anger was showing in the aggressive wand movements he made as he set up a privacy ward.

"You what?" he asked. "That doesn't look like a fucking book, Draco."

"No, it looks like documents illegally purloined from the Aurors' office, _Harry_." It never took long for Draco to go on the offensive. "Maybe you should be the one to explain what the fuck _you're_ doing."

Harry stepped forward to take the papers away only to have Draco snatch them away from his hands.

"They were private records, Draco. I may have said you could come in here looking for a book, but you had _no right_ to go snooping through anything else."

"Why do you have them, Harry? Is this another way to torture yourself? Another way to make sure you never forget that Ron died and you're still alive?" He grabbed another bunch of papers and threw them at Harry, careful to keep the pile he'd protected safe in his other hand. "Was it so that no one could figure out who the real culprit was and you could go back to being vilified by the wizarding world? Did you miss fifth-year that much?"

"Yes, damn it! I didn't want anyone to know Ron did it."

"Why didn't you burn it, then, Harry? Why keep it around?" Draco sounded truly bewildered at this. "Just get rid of it."

Harry started collecting the papers that Draco had thrown to the floor. "That's beside the point, Draco. There's no reason to go invading my privacy."

"Oh, like you didn't invade mine by following me around and eavesdropping in sixth-year."

"I was sixteen and we were in the middle of a fucking war! It is _so_ not the same thing."

Draco had stood to help collect papers but threw them back down again at Harry's comment. "Just don't think you can take the higher ground here, Potter."

Harry reeled back at the venom in Draco's voice, and he knew it was the _Potter_ that hurt the most. "Need I remind you, that you were actually doing something wrong, _Malfoy_."

Draco took a step back at that comment and Harry wondered for a moment if he was going to throw a hex, or even a punch. Instead, as he watched, Draco took a deep breath and visibly calmed himself.

"Do you know anything about Arithmancy, Harry? Anything at all?"

"No," Harry answered trying to figure out what that had to do with anything.

"Then how could you see that Weasley was guilty?"

"There were memos. Information that he knew was finding its way to the group we were investigating. Even the false information. It was all there."

"Merlin, Harry, if you'd just shown it to someone else, someone who knew what they were doing. Even Granger would have known enough arithmancy to tell there was something wrong with these bank records."

"What are you on about, Draco?"

"It wasn't Weasley at all."

Harry found he couldn't quite understand what Draco was saying. What wasn't Weasley? Draco shoved the papers he'd been so protective of into his hands.

"Did Ron have a partner? Someone else close to the case?" Draco continued.

"Brackness," Harry answered automatically. "But he was the one who told me there was a problem. Why would he have…?"

"So that you wouldn't look at him, you great idiot. Merlin save me from Gryffindors. Gods, Harry, if you didn't always have to be such a martyr, you would have had this sorted out a year ago. You'd still have your kids. Your family."

"I might still have Ron."

"No." Harry looked up, finding it hard to believe Draco could be that cruel, even during an argument. "Don't think like that, Harry. Think about the things you can change. You can get Brackness arrested, for starters. You can tell the truth to your family and be re-embraced into the bosom of the Weasley clan. You can get your wife back."

"My wife?" Harry looked up at Draco and saw something close to pain flash over Draco's features before it disappeared again.

"Yes. You can have your family back." Draco's voice was suddenly quiet. He sounded defeated. "You should send G-Ginny a letter. Let her know to wait for you."

Harry was still staring at the sheath of papers Draco had handed him. Fingers brushed along his arm and then he heard the door slide shut. Draco was gone.

 

Harry never ended up back in the kitchen that night, and it was only when he got up to make breakfast the next morning that he realized. The rest of the station was silent as he padded through the halls to the kitchen, and when he arrived there, it was clear someone had managed to feed the small horde and get the kitchen tidied.

He'd just knelt to get a bowl from the cupboard when he heard a noise behind him. He turned to see Draco, still in pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt, arms raised in a stretch and pants sitting low, showing his hipbones and the abdominal muscles that had been revealed as flat and rock hard as the trek across the ice melted the excess fat away. Harry smiled tentatively. They hadn't shared a bed last night.

"I, uh, just wasn't sure if you'd be up to making breakfast," Draco mumbled. "But I can –" He gestured over his shoulder back towards the sleeping quarters.

"You can help if you like," Harry said quickly. "I wanted to apologise to you. For, er, yesterday, and yelling." God, it was like he was fifteen again, and trying to comfort Cho Chang who was crying in Madame Puddifoot’s. But not, because he felt less awkward that day and cared about Cho a lot less.

"You were right, Harry. I shouldn't have been prying into your things. I’m sorry."

"But look what you found. You were, you know, right."

"Like you were in sixth."

"I shouldn't have thrown that in your face, either."

"You're forgiven, Harry." They shared a smile and everything felt right again until the smile faded and Draco took a step back. "If you've got everything under control, I'm going to get some more sleep." Another step back. "Good night, Harry."

Harry watched as he turned to walk away. He began to measure the ingredients for pancakes and tried to figure out what he was going to write to Hermione. Somehow, it seemed easier then figuring out what had gone wrong with Draco, and how he could get him back.

 

**July 14, 2020: Modern technology allows overwinterers to talk to their family in an emergency, but it's not the same as being able to hold them.**

Marcy flittered around Harry's desk, setting up a little camera and a microphone. Harry, in the meantime, was stewing about Draco, who had been perfectly polite in the week since their argument, but only perfectly polite. Harry had tried to get into Draco's room every night that week, but had found it warded against him. Easy wards for an Auror to get through, but Draco's intent was clear and Harry had let them be.

Hermione had asked for the opportunity to talk to Harry face to face, and, being Hermione, had emailed Marcy direct with her request. And in just a few minutes, he was going to speak to someone from home for the first time since the end of November. He was going to speak to _Hermione_. He tried to remember that he was her best friend and not the man who had got her husband killed by being an idiot and not looking at the evidence thoroughly enough.

The speakers on his computer started to make ringing sounds and Marcy pressed a button and Hermione's face was suddenly there. Harry tried to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach.

"Hi, Harry!" She sounded bright, but her eyes were red-rimmed and she looked tired.

"Hermione." He knew he sounded unsure.

"Got it working, Marcy?" Harry turned at Draco's voice from the door. "Ah, I see you have." Draco stepped into the room. "Mrs. Weasley."

"Hello, Draco. Thank you for suggesting this. I wasn't even aware we could do it."

"You're entirely welcome."

"There you are, Harry," Marcy interrupted. "It's been bounced through nine different relay stations and off two satellites and you shouldn't have any problems."

"Was that a reference from the old movie with the old computers you made me watch last week, Marcy?" Draco asked, moving towards the door.

" _Sneakers_."

"I don't remember any redeeming qualities, but I fell asleep half way through."

"I don't know, Draco," Harry put in. "River Phoenix was young, but you could see the potential."

A smile ghosted over Draco's face. "Honestly, Potter, what's this thing you have with blonds? It's almost embarrassing." He walked out the door and Marcy followed, meaning that Harry had to turn to look at Hermione.

"That was an interesting look, Harry. Anything you want to tell me?"

"Just that I'm sorry, Hermione." Merlin, he felt the tears start and he wondered if this was the first time he'd cried about what happened to Ron. Cried without that horrible anger of _why would he do this?_ and _why couldn't I stop him?_ "So, so sorry."

Through his blurry eyesight, he saw that Hermione had tears running down her cheeks as well and it felt cathartic. He was letting everything go.

"I should have trusted him," he said, when he could speak again. "I should have at least come to you and asked for help, or confronted him or just _known_ that Ron wouldn't do this. Like _you_ knew he wouldn't. Like you knew _I_ wouldn't. It's just like Sirius, isn't it? Wasn't I meant to learn from the mistakes of my parents?"

"Harry, you can't think like that."

"You should hate me, Hermione. How many people are going to die because of me?"

"Harry Potter, you stop that right now! Just shut up and listen for a minute." Hermione glared at him and Harry was transported back to Hogwarts and knew he probably looked as sulky as he used to get in fifth. "They've arrested Brackness, along with the group he was protecting. And Brackness had Ron's notes that had gone missing after his death. Ron thought it was you, but he was close to figuring it out and that's why Brackness killed him. Not because of you. Because of Brackness. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded, because it was what she wanted to see, but he didn't really believe her.

"I'll email you copies of the _Prophet_ articles. They're calling you a hero again."

"That's a load of dragon dung."

"Still, the story going around is that you took the blame on purpose to draw the real culprit out. They asked me to let you know your job is waiting."

"Oliver has been in it for over two years."

"They want you back, Harry." She was talking too fast and he couldn't get her to stop and listen to his apology. "And I have some people who want to say hello to you."

He grimaced. He didn't think he could handle seeing Rose and Hugo and know that there was a chance their father could still be alive. But Hermione was already opening the door.

"Dad!" Lily appeared on the screen and Harry raised his hand to his mouth to hide the sob that threatened to escape. She looked older and she'd cut her hair short and she'd grown more beautiful in the months he'd been gone. Al slid into the seat next to her and Harry stretched his hand out to trace fingers over the screen.

"It is so good to see you guys. Where's James?"

His eldest son slunk onto the screen, his eyes red-rimmed. "Dad," he said. "I'm sorry-"

Harry didn't let him go on. "No, James. You don't have to apologise. I do. I lied to you all and hid what was going on and made so many mistakes." He saw Ginny walk behind them with Hermione and his breath caught. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Dad," Al said. "We're just glad you aren't on the take."

"Have you been watching television all summer again, Al?"

"Not _all_ summer."

He smiled happily as the kids stumbled over themselves to catch him up on their lives since December, and he saw that Ginny was smiling indulgently at them from her seat behind the couch. Her eyes kept flicking over to him and he was worried about what he was going to say to her. He knew they needed to talk, but what Draco said about having his wife back sat uneasily in his stomach, and he hoped the children kept talking, so he could put off the conversation where he didn't know what he was going to say. Did he owe it to her, to the kids, to give them another chance?

Al glanced away from the camera and smiled happily. "Dad, Scorpius is staying for a bit over the summer. He was hoping he could say hi to his dad?" Al sounded unsure of Harry's response, but having Draco in the room meant he could think about Ginny for a bit longer.

"Of course, Al. Don't go anywhere, I'll go get him."

He jogged to the common room and grabbed Draco's hand to drag him back to the donga. Scorpius was the only one on the screen when they got back and Harry shoved Draco on to the chair before turning to leave.

"You don't have to go, Harry," Draco said. Harry nodded and flopped onto his bed. Scorpius was like his kids, quick to talk about everything he'd been doing and their plans for the summer, which involved an advanced Quidditch camp with the Magpies and lessons in baking cookies with Molly Weasley which left Draco looking mildly horrified.

"Mrs. Potter wants to talk to Mr. Potter, Dad, so I need to go." If Harry hadn't been watching so closely, he wouldn't have seen Draco flinch at the mention of his wife. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, son." Draco traced the screen exactly as Harry had done earlier, and Harry's heart wrenched at the easy affection between father and son. If he'd ever thought about it, he would have expected a cold and formal relationship like Draco had had with Lucius. Instead, it held all the warmth that Harry had come to expect in the months he'd known Draco; all the warmth that he wanted directed at himself.

"Thank you, Harry," Draco said, and with a final wave at the computer, he walked from the donga. When Harry looked back at the screen it was Ginny's face filling it.

"Hermione said we didn't have much longer, Harry. I just wanted you to know, I'm so sorry. I should have trusted you. What were those Muggle vows? For better or worse? I ran away at the first 'worse' and you were just trying to protect me. Protect all of us."

Harry didn't know how to react to this. She was meant to be angry – he'd lied to her, and his trying to cover up what was going on had led to her brother's death as surely as if he'd thrown the curse himself. She was meant to scream and shout and throw things. He was used to Ginny throwing things. Instead, she was still babbling.

"And the things Mum said to you. She feels so guilty, Harry. She's afraid you'll never forgive her for saying you're not part of the family." Harry felt the familiar pain as he remembered that awful day, but the pain was not as acute as before. It was a dull ache, like the bruise that remained after the wound had been healed. He was missing half of what Ginny was saying. "And I'll wait for you, Harry. We'll try again? The kids would love to see us back together, I know. Harry, why aren't you _saying_ anything?"

Her eyes didn't hold love or hope. All he could see was pain, and he wanted to be able to take her hand while he told her this. They'd been together close to twenty years before they split, and even after the last two years and all the lies and venom between them, he didn’t want her hurt.

"Don't wait for me, Ginny."

"What?"

"Don't wait. This trip, it changed me. I'm not going to go back to England and step into my old job. It won't fit me right anymore. And I don't think _we_ will work right either."

"You're a hero, Harry. I can't just take your kids and drop you."

"Well, that's what you did. But it's also not the point I'm trying to make. I've moved on. I'll always love you, Ginny." He paused and took a deep breath, wishing that he could reach through the screen and take her hand and squeeze it, so that she'd understand what he was trying to say. So that she'd believe it. "We're not going to try again."

"Oh, Merlin. I'm going to be the bitch that left Harry Potter and took his kids, while he was being all heroic trying to catch my brother's killer."

"No, you won't, Ginny. Our divorce is old news. And we're a couple who had differences and decided to part ways. It's that simple."

"I started seeing someone," she blurted out suddenly. "We had a big argument when this stuff about you came out. I didn't want to say good bye to him."

"Then don't. Go apologise instead. Then bed him. He'll forgive you, if you do that."

"Harry!" She sounded horrified and he grinned at how, all of a sudden, she was easy to shock.

"I'll talk to you when I get back. And Gin? There's someone else for me as well. Don't feel guilty for moving on."

She didn't say anything. Just nodded and walked out of the screen. A few seconds later, Hermione appeared.

"Harry, I need to say good bye. The wards protecting the computer only work for so long. I love you, okay? This was Brackness' fault, not yours."

"I love you, too, Hermione. We're past the half-way point, only another eight months or so before I'm home."

She blew him a kiss and suddenly the picture was gone and he was left feeling empty and bereft. He wanted nothing more than to seek out Draco for a hug. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, that had stopped being an option.

 

  


Chapter 8  


**July 31, 2020: No matter how close you become to the friends in the station, a birthday feels odd without friends and family around. Thankfully, I was used to it.**

In the days leading up to his birthday, Harry tried to get Draco to talk to him, but found that Draco always had people around him or somewhere to go. He'd even started helping in the storage shed to avoid Harry. It was frustrating, and not a little disheartening, and as he sketched a birthday cake onto a sheet of paper at 12.01am on July 31, he wished for just the opportunity to _talk_ to Draco. Then he wondered who he was kidding and wished for the man to be back in his life properly, and back in his bed.

"Happy birthday, Harry," he murmured to himself, in a ritual he had kept sacred since he first found out when his birthday was. After he stuck the picture on the wall, he climbed into his bed and spent hours staring at the ceiling and trying to fall asleep.

The next day went along as normal, though Hermione had sent a video she'd made of the kids singing 'Happy Birthday' and he was allowed to open the presents she’d had sent along in the morning. Chocolates and sweets from James and Al. A beautiful drawing of the three kids by Lily. The normal bottle of the Macallan. And Hermione had sent along a book about forgiveness, as well. He almost groaned at the not-very-subtle message she was trying to send.

In the evening, he sat down to his favourite spaghetti Bolognese and he knew Curtis had made Eton Mess for everyone for dessert. It reminded him of Draco's birthday, not even two months ago, when everything still seemed possible. Still, he opened the package of wool and knitting needles from Luna and a history of Antarctic exploration from Rolf. The rest of the station stuck with alcohol or chocolates as gifts, and it really was a nice little pile of gifts he had. Still, it was the same every year – each present kind of surprised him and both reminded him of the horror of his childhood birthdays and wiped the hurt clean at the same time.

Finally, Malfoy's gift was the last one to open. There were two gifts, in fact. One was thin and soft and felt like clothing of some sort. He recognized the paper as the gift wrapping at the souvenir shop at the South Pole. He carefully unwrapped it and burst out laughing. The blue t-shirt declared in red writing, "I crossed a frozen continent and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!"

"Oh, that is tacky," said Jack.

"I love it," Harry grinned, and he did. In that horrible place that Draco hated, he had thought of Harry and was so sure that Harry would finish the journey, he'd bought a t-shirt to commemorate it, even if it was tacky. He drew it over the t-shirt he was already wearing. "I'll probably wear it every day for the rest of the trip."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you wore it every day for the rest of your life. _You're_ that tacky, after all."

"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry reached forward to the other gift, which was in a lovely box. He undid the ribbon and lifted the lid off the box and discovered a stuffed toy. This time his smile was slow to sneak over his face. "Is this a ferret?"

Luna let loose a spluttering sort of laugh and quickly hid her mouth behind a hand, though her eyes glittered with the effort to hold it in.

"I thought you should have something to remember me by."

"It's perfect, Draco."

"Anyone mind explaining why it's so perfect?" asked Marcy.

"Draco was very… pointy… in school. My friends and I used to call him ferret-face."

"That's some horrible bullying," Jack put in.

"No, no," Draco said quickly. "My friends were the bullies. I called him scarhead for that mark on his forehead. But they were the only ones who really stood up to us."

"Well, now that I have a stuffed Draco to sleep with, all is forgiven."

Everyone laughed that time and Harry blushed. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded," he said quickly. Among all the good natured ribbing, he noticed that Draco hadn't laughed either. In fact, Draco's smile seemed almost sad.

When Draco stood to leave, Harry grabbed his presents. "I'm just going to pop these in my donga. I'll be back," he said, rushing off after Draco. He caught up with the blond at the door to his room. "Draco, can we talk?"

"We've been doing that all night, Harry."

"No, I meant about us."

"What could there possibly be to talk about?" Draco asked. "After all, there is no us."

"Well, that's something to talk about. Along with why your door is now warded against me."

"I thought that would have been obvious. It's because I do not want you in my room."

"Draco," Harry said, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. He reached towards Draco's waist, but Draco stepped back, avoiding his touch. "What the fuck happened? One bloody argument and you're giving up? I thought we'd moved past it."

"We have, and at the other end of it is no us. Merlin, Potter, are you this needy with everyone who gives you a pity fuck? You're the hottest guy on the station, we had a good time, but it's over. Please try to control yourself for the rest of the year; I'd rather not have you pining away for the next eight months."

"A pity fuck?" Harry could hear the anger in his voice.

"Your desperation was obvious to everyone. Marcy and I decided it should be me who approached you. Now, _please_ , leave me alone."

Draco stepped into his donga and Harry immediately felt his wards go up. He dropped his things in his room and spotted the birthday cake picture from this morning, pinned to the wall. He'd wished for Draco, back in his life and his bed. He should have known by now that wishes never came true. With a thought, he sent the paper up in flames and grabbed his new bottle of whisky. If he didn't get what he wanted for his birthday, then he could at least get drunk.

 

**August 8, 2020: The beauty of Antarctica really captivated me and before I knew it, I was trying to figure out how to save it.**

Harry was stomping around the kitchen when Rolf approached him with a proposition.

"Can I talk to you, Harry?"

"Sure. Talk." Harry had just started chopping potatoes and Rolf was looking uneasily at the knife in his hands.

"Maybe after you put the knife down."

"Are you about to tell me something I won't like?"

"No. I was going to ask your help with something."

"Then go ahead. I promise I won't hurt you."

"I was wondering if you could talk to your friend Hermione about something to help Antarctica."

"Draco and I have already talked about it." Harry clenched his jaw as he thought back to VOMET and CRAP and that day in the conservatory.

"Well, I’m going to talk some more. Luna and I have been talking, and with the dragon on the ice, we're going to need that wizarding Antarctic base. Your friend Charlie has been talking with the British Ministry and they've arranged with the wizarding and Muggle authorities of Britain and Australia to build a base relatively close to where you saw the dragon. It will be a dragon reserve, as well as a research base for magical researchers. It will be invaluable, really."

"Rolf, you don't need to sell me on the idea."

"Well, I do. Because they want to forget the base and just send someone out to set up wardstones around the area and, I don't know, hope for the best. But Luna said your friend Hermione likes a crusade _and_ she's influential. Maybe with her on our side, we can convince them to do something more substantial."

"Leave it with me," Harry said.

He sat down at the big table in the mess hall after dinner with some large sheets of paper and coloured markers. It was true that Hermione was the one with the organizational skills to pull ideas off, but he was the ideas man, with every charitable project they'd done since the end of the war. From the Dobby Foundation for the Acceptable and Intelligent Treatment of House-elves, set up to ensure house elves were treated with respect and kindness, even if they were never freed, to the Lupin Foundation for Werewolf Rights. Even the War Orphans' Fund, later renamed the Marauder's House Fund after an orphanage called Marauder's House was opened, was largely his brainchild, though he'd left Ginny and Andromeda as the public face of that one.

So, he would definitely be able to set up a fund-raising operation for environmental initiatives within the wizarding community, and he could certainly run up a plan for Hermione to take to the Wizengamot, so they could loosen their purse-strings and send some people out permanently to keep an eye on the dragon. It had been a long time since he'd started something like this, but as he began scribbling down ideas and drawing lines to link them, the old enthusiasm came back. It was rather exhilarating.

It was likely that they didn't understand how difficult magic was on the ice, but it was essential that they did, so Harry made a note of it; if they were going to get something going this summer, a decision would need to be made in the next month. Rolf and Luna sat down with him before the end of the night and the brainstorming continued. He made a note that Charlie was already preparing for a summer in Antarctica and wondered if he'd be open to an email from Harry, now that the truth about Ron had been revealed.

"I need to know more about the environmental devastation," he said, long after the common room had cleared and it was only the three of them still awake. Luna had just made them hot cocoa – it was made with the pre-mixed just-add-hot-water chocolate. It tasted rather watery and Harry found that he was suddenly craving butterbeer.

"You need to speak to Draco for those details," Rolf said.

Harry heard himself growl at the mere mention of that name.

"Honestly, I thought you had gotten past all that antagonism. You both seemed pretty happy, so what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it. And since we're no longer on the ice, it's not really any of your business."

"Fine." Rolf drained his mug and stood up. "Coming?"

Luna shook her head. "I still have cocoa to finish."

Harry began gathering his papers, but stilled when Luna laid a hand on his. "I've been your friend more than half your life, Harry. Is it my business?"

She had those eyes that looked right through you – the first person he knew who could see Thestrals. "I don't really want to talk about it," he said in the end.

"But you need to."

"I suppose I do." So he replayed his conversation with Draco on the night of his birthday and how they'd fallen into stiff formality since that day, when avoidance wasn't possible.

"Harry, didn't you and Draco keep sleeping together after Midwinter?" she asked when his story was finished.

"Yes," he said. "It doesn't mean anything. He just wasn't sick of me yet."

"You don't think that the timing of his shutting you out was something of a coincidence? Honestly, Harry, you don't even have a Nargle infestation to blame for your stupidity."

"Please, Luna. Tell me what I'm missing."

"How do you feel about him, Harry?"

"I-" He stopped. "Well, I like him. I like spending time with him and talking with him and just sitting on the couch chatting and watching television. And I didn't want it to end, you know? I know we hated each other for a long time, but now all of this has been amazing, and I wanted to see where it could go. You know, before I discovered it was all a pity fuck." He could feel the tension in his jaw and concentrated on relaxing it.

"Have you told him any of this?"

"He didn't exactly give me a chance, did he?"

"Harry, I think you should talk to him."

"Have you talked to Rolf?" He saw a flash of anger run across her normally placid face. "I see you look at him. Does he know how you feel?"

"Completely different situation, Harry. You and Draco have all this past, so you have to make sure you're talking about the present and the future. Rolf and I don't have a past."

"You could have a future, though. I'll think about what you said, if you think about what I said."

He could see the determination in her eyes, the hardness that had come after the war that she usually hid so well, but she nodded and then her smile was back. "Fine, Harry. You win. I'm going to bed."

"Your bed?"

"Yes, mine, Mr Nosy-pants. It's possible someone will already be there, but it's still my bed."

"Okay. Good night, Luna."

She pressed her lips to his hair as she walked out and Harry turned back to his many bits of paper. His information about magical creatures was spot on, especially if Hermione got Charlie's input before she presented it, but the climate science would need more. No matter how he felt about Draco, or how Draco felt about him, he was going to need to ask the blond for help.

 

**12 August, 2020: If you've been here, you'll want to protect the beauty. Save it.**

Harry approached Draco when he was relaxing on the couch with Marcy and Edward one night. The hurt from his birthday was still ever-present, but it didn't matter in the face of getting a wizarding base organized.

"Draco?" he asked. "Do you have a minute?"

"I thought we'd said everything we had to say," Draco said, voice cold. Harry felt his skin heat at Draco's complete disregard of their audience.

"It's work-related." Harry knew Rolf had talked to Draco about the new station, so hopefully Draco would understand what that meant. Thankfully, he just nodded and rose to follow Harry to the closest table. Harry slid into the seat at the head of the table, not wanting to sit opposite Draco. But as Draco sat next to him, Harry realized that this was too close. He breathed through his mouth, not wanting to catch the scent of that expensive hair goo that brought back too many memories and quickly dragged out his notes. "I've based my report to the Ministry on the need for round-the-clock monitoring of the dragon, and any other strange creatures discovered in the region, but it would be good to get some information on the need for climate observation. And then I can arrange the information for VOMET, as well."

"You mean CRAP."

"I mean, I'm hoping Hermione can come up with a better acronym for us." They shared a smile and Harry's heart clenched. "But you're right. The information needs to get out, but you need to help me understand it."

"You weren't listening every other time we talked about it?"

"I wasn't taking notes. Nor was I listening with the intent of using the information as part of a media campaign of some description. So can you stop being a dick long enough to make sure I'm getting this right?"

"Okay. Where do you want to start?"

Harry tried to ignore the sensual sound of Draco's voice as it went into lecture mode. He bit his lip at the tingling sensation running up his arm at the brush of Draco's arm against his. He certainly didn't breathe in as Draco leaned close to read his notes, bringing that enticing smell close to him.

Still, Harry wouldn't be surprised if Draco gave him a test on the material at the end of his instruction, so he made lots of notes about the probable effects of climate change, the effects they were already seeing and steps that could be taken to limit the release of magitron or whatever they were going to call the magic greenhouse gas. He made a note to contact Neville about plants that would process it.

"It would be good to know what creates more greenhouse gases: Apparition or flying? Or is travelling by Floo the better choice?"

"That's the research I've been doing, but we've only just developed the tools to measure the magical discharge. And I need money to do the research. But there are people in the US doing this sort of research – they're getting interesting results. So, it depends on the distance, because each Apparition releases the same, rather large, amount of discharge."

"Calling it discharge makes it sound like something leaking out a bodily orifice. It needs something scientific-y."

"Thank you for that insight, Mr Loquacious. What would you suggest?"

"Magitron? Magoxide? Magithane?"

"Fine. Each Apparition releases the same amount of magithane. Apparating a short distance is horribly wasteful. There's a balance point where the same amount of gas is released, whether Apparating or flying, and after that flying is more damaging. On the plus side, magithane does less damage than any of the Muggle greenhouse gases, so it's always better to Apparate or fly or Portkey than to drive or fly by Muggle means."

"They're not all as bad as each other?"

"No. For example, each molecule of methane traps twenty-one times as much heat as one molecule of carbon dioxide. Thankfully, methane output has stabilized and it only hangs around in the atmosphere for twelve years or so. By contrast, carbon dioxide accounts for eighty-five percent of greenhouse gases in America and that number continues to rise. Plus, it's around for between fifty and two hundred years."

"And magithane?"

"A magithane molecule is equal to three quarters of a carbon dioxide molecule. I haven't figured out how long they hang around for though; it needs more study."

"It's too much to take in."

"It's easier to fight a Dark Lord?" Draco asked with a raised brow.

"The end is easier to see. Just kill the bastard and problem solved. That's far easier than convincing people to ride bikes instead of fly. Or undo their buttons themselves rather than use a spell."

"Do you want to know what's worse?"

"Not really," Harry said.

"If all the Muggles and wizards stopped tomorrow and didn't produce a single spec of greenhouse gas from then on, the planet would go on heating up for another sixty years. We're not going to avoid the heating of the planet, but if we want to be able to continue _living_ on the planet, we need to convince people – Muggles and wizards alike – to make changes now."

"Well, that's what VOMET is for."

"You should try calling it 'Potter Wants You To Do This Now'. It would get a better response."

"But PWYTDTN isn't a good acronym."

"Are you really serious about this, Harry?" Draco looked at Harry intently, as if the answer meant more than anything else. "Even after what I said about you?"

"Being a pity fuck has very little to do with saving the world, Draco. I learned to put my feelings aside in the quest for, you know, peace on Earth, around the time I –" He stopped. It was when he pulled Draco out of the fire, but he didn't think the blond would like a reminder of that. Draco raised an eyebrow in question. "Well, it was just before Voldemort died."

"You're a good man, Harry Potter."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, so he just watched as Draco walked away.

 

**20 August, 2020: It was important to me to make other people see the beauty in the ice.**

Harry started his email to Hermione with words he never thought he'd say to her. 'You were wrong.' There was no Evil Weather Wizard, no matter what she and Nott thought, and they only had themselves to blame for the current state of the planet. He submitted a report recommending further research grants into magic's effect on climate change and asked her to send personal memos to every Head of Department at the Ministry, recommending they build a permanent base for wizards in Antarctica.

Then, he tried to sell her on VOMET.

For once, they were both on the computer at the same time and she caught him on a messaging service, which he hated because he typed too slowly for his thoughts. Hermione, it seemed, was a great typist, to go along with all her other talents.

 _'Harry Potter, did you choose that name purely for the acronym?'_ she wrote.

 _'Of course not, Hermione,'_ he wrote. _'The acronym came first. There's also Conserving and Repairing an Ailing Planet if you'd prefer.'_

_'CRAP? You want to call your new volunteer organization CRAP?'_

_'No, I want to call it VOMET. Draco prefers CRAP.'_

He sent a colon and a capital D, knowing it would turn into a grinning smiley and infuriate her. He could almost hear her saying 'Oh, honestly, Harry.'

 _'We knew you'd come up with something better,'_ he told her. _'But please take a look at my notes. Luna will get in contact with her dad and I'll start writing some articles trying to express the beauty of the place. Hopefully, the momentum will start before I'm even back.'_

_'Now that you're a hero again, a weekly column might work well. A bit about the beauty of nature and Antarctica and then start educating people.'_

_'Educating people? You take the fun out of everything.'_

_'They need to know what to do to fix it.'_

_'This isn't a Dark Lord, Hermione. There is no fix, only a lessening of consequences.'_

_'I would not, if I were you, start with that information.'_

They signed off soon afterwards and Harry had notes to write his first article about the necessity of travelling without magic in Antarctica. It would help make people see it could be done.

 

It was, as usual, embarrassing how quickly things got done after Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, asked for it, but in this case, he could only be glad that his name once again carried some weight. To celebrate, he'd decided to take up one of those hobbies Luna had insisted upon and presented himself to Marcy, guitar in hand.

"For me? Harry, you shouldn't have," Marcy said, when Harry planted himself between the couch and the TV.

"No, you berk. I want you to teach me. Please," he added as an afterthought.

Marcy looked at him carefully, then grinned and patted the seat next to him. "Okay. Let's do this."

Marcy was unbelievably patient with Harry's horrible mangling of notes and chords and almost the whole damned instrument, when he snapped a string and quickly fixed it wordlessly before Marcy noticed. The fourth time he stuffed up the A-chord, Marcy adjusted their seating until he was sitting pressed against Harry. One arm sat on Harry's shoulder and the other tucked up under Harry's arm so that he could put his fingers on the frets and help position Harry's fingers. Harry could feel Marcy's heat through his t-shirt and realized that, despite the fact he was a very attractive young man, there was not even a slight 'stirring of the loins'. He imagined it was Draco for a moment and his loins definitely sat up and said hello.

That was when Draco walked in. Harry gave him a tentative smile; they'd reached some sort of truce while they sent emails to Hermione to arrange plans for VOMET and organize for Charlie to come out on the first boat of summer. Draco stopped in front of them and scowled. Apparently, now that Charlie was on his way, they didn't need to be friends anymore.

"Moving on, are we, Potter?"

Marcy's arms moved away from Harry with some alacrity and he scooted back in the seat.

"Just learning to play guitar, Draco," Harry replied.

"I don't remember my music lessons being quite so touchy-feely. Perhaps you can patent this new method of instruction, Marcy. I'm sure music and mating would become popular all too soon."

Harry felt Marcy tense behind him. "What's your problem, Malfoy?" he asked.

"The fact that you're sleeping your way through the station. Is it a threesome with Luna and Rolf next? Or will you try to convert Jack?"

Harry stood, placing the guitar carefully on the chair he'd just left. He stepped forward, directly into Draco's space, so the man could hear his hiss. "You made it clear that you were through with me; that your pity had run out and there were no more fucks to give. So, it's none of your goddamned business _who_ I choose to sleep with."

"And what about your wife?"

"I'm divorced, as you well know."

"So, you're free to have your fun until you can go back to her in England? How very Bohemian. Just keep in mind that your selfish desires could hurt someone else."

"Go back to her? Malfoy, what are you on about?" Harry let his voice trail off. Draco had already stalked away.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Marcy asked from behind him.

"Yeah." He turned. "One of these days, he's going to cut my balls off, and all I'm doing is flirting with you. Can't you just fuck him? It should shut him up."

Marcy looked at him incredulously. "Are you always this dumb, Harry?"

"What?"

"It's _my_ balls he's going to cut off. He wants _you_ in his bed, you dumbass."

"He's had me in his bed and given me his pity fuck. He made it clear he doesn't want it anymore."

"Now you're just choosing not to see. There was no pity behind that fuck; he'd been watching you for months. Fuck, he still watches your every move. I've lived with Draco in confined spaces for eighteen months now. He has never been as happy here, as he was when he was screwing you."

"Well, he's choosing to ignore those feelings, so I don't see what I can do about it. What do you suggest?"

"More guitar lessons. Making him jealous certainly managed to get a reaction."

Harry picked up the guitar and settled back in to learning to strum.

"Also," Marcy said, almost as an afterthought, "you might want to tell him that you're not going back to your wife."

 

**September 1, 2020: It is, of course, the isolation that bites the sharpest in a place like this. An argument with even one person can make your stay very uncomfortable.**

Harry always saw September first as the beginning of a new year. Even twenty-three years after he'd left Hogwarts, he remembered the summer months spent imprisoned with the Dursleys and the freedom of once again being back in the wizarding world. After the war, he'd made it a tradition to write out goals on September first, the anniversary of the day his life had really begun.

This year, his goal revolved around getting Draco to speak to him again. On September first, he waited until Draco was walking towards the bathroom and interrupted him.

"We should talk," he said, in what had to be the worst opening to a conversation, ever.

"I don't see why."

"It's on my to-do list for today."

Draco cracked a smile at this. "Fine, what do you want to talk about?"

Harry motioned to his room and Draco slowly walked through the door.

"I want to talk about us," he said, when the door was closed.

"There is no –"

"Shut up. Everything changed all of a sudden, and since I'm a moron, it's taken me a month and a half to figure out what the catalyst was. You seem to be labouring under a misapprehension. You think I'm planning on getting back together with Ginny. I'm not."

Draco snorted. "Why wouldn't you? You told me you loved her."

"Sure. Past tense. But I don't love her anymore."

"You're fooling yourself, if you think that The Chosen One won't go back to his perfect wife and perfect kids and perfect life."

"Been practicing your Legilimency, have you?" Draco shook his head. "Well then, you can't possibly know how I feel, or what I plan to do. You're one of the few people who treats me like just another person. I mean, everyone does around here, but even back home, I'm just that annoying guy you went to school with. If you don't want to sleep with me anymore, then that's fine. But I enjoyed question time, and I enjoyed our friendship. And I don't understand why going back to my wife would end our friendship anyway, but that's beside the point." He shook his head before he started rambling. "Yeah, that's what I wanted to say."

Draco chuckled and Harry blushed, knowing how awkward he sounded. Draco picked up the stuffed ferret that was sitting on his bed and started twirling it in his hand.

"So, you weren't planning on sleeping with me while writing love letters to your wife?" Draco was speaking very quietly right at the stuffed ferret.

"No, Draco. I was enjoying being your pity fuck too much for that."

"You weren't a pity fuck."

"I'd hoped. Can I ask a question time question?"

Draco nodded.

"Why were you so sure I was going back to Ginny? I mean, you didn’t even give me a chance to think, let alone _tell_ you what I was thinking."

"It, um…there was someone."

"It happened before?"

"Yeah. On one of the Alaska trips." Draco looked up from the stuffed ferret then and straight into Harry's eyes. "Was I an idiot?"

"Yes. Can we go back to being friends?"

Draco took another step forward, so close that Harry could feel the heat radiating off his body and knew that if they breathed deeply at the same time, their chests would brush. "We can go back to having fun, if you like." His voice was a ribbon of sex curling around Harry's cock and he took a deep breath and raised his hands to grasp those slim hips. He stopped himself, clenching at the air instead, unsure of his welcome. Draco leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry's and it was gentle, but still seared through his skin like a brand.

Having fun. It was a first step, he thought, as he finally rested his hands on Draco's waist. But he didn't know how to get more.

 

**September 27, 2020: I don't know how to put into words how important this place is; how magical the few wild places we have left are. Do you remember the first time you lifted a feather in the air with only a few words and the wave of a wand? The exhilaration? The wonder? That's Antarctica.**

Harry had moved the ferret into Draco's room and asked for naming suggestions. Calling it 'Draco' or 'Malfoy' was immediately ruled out and it was finally agreed that 'Abraxas' was both acceptable and dignified, and a perfectly fitting name for a stuffed ferret. Draco just mocked him for not wanting to leave the poor thing in the loneliness of his abandoned donga.

"Its eyes follow me as I walk around the room, Harry. It's creepy," he said one morning as he gathered his research papers.

"You're imagining things," Harry replied, though since he'd charmed the eyes to follow Draco, he knew there was no imagination involved.

"Are you going to laze around in bed all day?"

"Don’t see why not. Curtis gave me a couple of mornings off to sleep in."

"You have to get up," Draco said. "If you keep lying there all naked and whatnot, I'll just give in to temptation and then I won't get any work done, and I'd like to send my results to Jefferson at Berkeley."

Harry pushed the quilt back and wrapped his hand around his already rampant erection. He loved the way Draco tilted his head as he looked his fill. He loved the way he drew his t-shirt off his body so slowly, yet stripped his trousers in record time.

He especially loved the way Draco swallowed his cock all at once, until he could nuzzle the dark curls at its base. As he threaded his fingers into Draco's hair, he thought about those weeks when they were barely talking. Now they were back to cuddles at night and surprise kisses in the kitchen in the morning. Now it was hot sex and question time and talking about their kids and listening to each other's problems. It was a relationship, with a man who could deep throat even, and everything was perfect, except that Draco wouldn't admit it was a relationship.

As Draco swallowed around the tip of his cock, Harry's thoughts fractured for just a moment and he was back in the present, watching as the blond released him and looked into his eyes.

"Fuck me?"

"Yes. Come here." He guided Draco to straddle his face and spread his cheeks apart to slip a tongue across his puckered hole. Draco ground down immediately, his cock leaking onto Harry's forehead, of all things, and Harry laughed at the sensation as he pressed his tongue into Draco's arse.

"Merlin, Harry," Draco breathed.

Harry pushed Draco's hips up so he could grab the lubricant from the bedside table and slide a finger into that tight hole. He stretched his neck and licked awkwardly around the finger, enjoying the taste and smell and feel and the knowledge that, very soon, it would be his cock in there. He eased a second finger in and began to scissor them until Draco quickly pulled off of them.

"You were only in there five hours ago, Harry. No need to be delicate."

"Well, you show me what you need then."

Draco held his eyes as he moved down Harry's body and sank onto his cock in one smooth motion.

"Fuck," Harry hissed. His hands went to Draco's hips, only to be shoved away.

"Uh-uh," Draco said. "You wanted me to show you what I need, so you just keep your hands off."

Harry smiled and moved his hands behind his head. Draco's hands went to Harry's chest and he used the position to push back, rocking his hips slowly. Keeping his hands off was easier said than done and Harry ground his teeth, as he resisted the urge to grab those hips and pull down.

"You're trying to torture me, aren't you?" he murmured.

"Yes, but I can't. Gods, touch me, Harry."

Harry grabbed Draco's cock as the blond began to ride him in earnest. He thrust his hips up to meet Draco, struggling for control against the feeling of all that tight heat around him. It was only a couple of strokes and he was throwing his head back and growling as the pleasure that was coiled within him was released. Draco thrust again, once, twice, then that tightening that made sure every drop was milked from him and Draco was collapsing on his chest.

"I love the feeling of an orgasm with something in my arse. It's just… ngh."

Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around the warm body, ready to appreciate a morning of in-bed snuggling, since Luna was helping with breakfast.

The sound of an old-fashioned doorbell echoed through the room and Draco lifted his head. "Oh, you horrible enabler, Harry. I have results to compile and people trying to reach me."

Harry watched the come drip down Draco's thighs as he took the two steps across the room to his computer. He absent-mindedly wipe the sticky mess off his forehead as Draco bent over to read the email, presenting a very fine image of his arse as he did. A slight hum had Harry lifting himself up on his elbows to get a better look at Draco as he sat at the computer.

"What is it?"

"I think Granger pulled some strings. The Ministry have asked me to stay on for another year and help with the set-up of the new base. They want to call it Merlin Base, what do you think?"

"About you staying on? What about Scorpius?" What about me, he wanted to say.

"Oh, I meant about the name. It's better than Dumbledore Base, I suppose. Or Potter Base." He flashed Harry a grin. "I wonder if they've asked Luna and Rolf as well."

"You're not really considering staying, are you? You have a son at home that needs you."

"Scorpius is used to my being away."

"He's a teenager now."

"So, he's becoming more independent. Harry, what are you trying to say?"

"I just want you to think about it," Harry grumbled.

"Well, I got the offer all of thirty seconds ago, so I imagine I'll think about it a lot. But this is from the British Ministry. This is the first inkling that they trust me and may act on what I say, since I left our Isle’s fair shores twenty years ago. It's definitely an interesting offer."

Draco gave Harry a distracted smile as he wrapped a robe around himself. Harry watched him slide the donga door open on his way to the bathroom and waited for it to close again, before he allowed the frown to take over his features.

 

  


Chapter 9  


**October 5, 2020: After a winter of hibernation, life suddenly got busy.**

For the members of their little magical expedition, time for hobbies suddenly became scarce. The base was going to be an international one, with funding from the Australian, Canadian, U.S. and British Ministries of Magic. But very few wizards had ever travelled to the icy continent, so the four already there were the best experts the wizarding world had. There were lists and charts and long talks with Jack about how to make a base work and pages upon pages of equipment requirements to make sure there would be somewhere to live after the summer was over and tents would no longer provide enough protection for the first overwinter crew at Merlin Base.

But with every day of planning, Draco got more enthusiastic about staying on as a scientific officer and Harry got more morose at the idea of leaving the blond git behind. Every night, they fell into bed and had the hottest sex of Harry's life, though that also happened most mornings and sometimes pressed up against the shower tiles as well, but he knew he was distancing himself, and maybe Draco was too, and he missed talking like they were building a relationship. Now, they only talked like they were old friends who happened to share an incredibly satisfying sexual relationship.

Early ships didn't usually come to Mawson, but because the group going to Merlin Base would be setting off from there, the first ship of the season would be stopping in at the base.

"Ten years ago, they couldn't stop here so early," Draco told Harry as they paused to look over the ice that was breaking up in the bay. The rocky ground was starting to show through the snow in places and Harry was sad to see their hibernation end.

"The ice melts earlier, right?" Harry asked and Draco nodded.

"Less ice is formed in the first place and it gets warmer earlier, as well. You can take the early ship back, you know. There's no longer a reason to run away."

"I was never running away."

"Whether you were hiding in that miserable townhouse or hiding in Antarctica, it was still hiding."

Harry frowned. He hated it when Draco got insightful. "Do you want me to go?" he asked, as he began walking towards the shed where they were preparing their sleds to take Charlie out to the dragon.

"You don't seem to be enjoying it here anymore," Draco replied.

"That's not true! I love it here."

"Then perhaps it's just me you're no longer enjoying."

"Draco!" He watched, lost for words as Draco stalked ahead of him into the storage shed. Thankfully, there was no one else there, so he could continue the conversation when he caught up.

"Draco." He grabbed Draco's wrist when it was clear that he was going to ignore Harry. "I'm not 'no longer enjoying' you. Draco, look at me." Draco looked up, his face blank, but his eyes hurt. "It's the exact opposite. I don't want it to end. You're talking about staying on here for another year and creating this wonderful place and it's your _dream_ , but I don't want you to stay. It's going to _hurt_ when you stay and I have to board that boat back to England."

"You could stay too, Harry. You'd be good in Jack's position – station leader would suit you."

"I can't. Not this year. I have to see my kids and make sure I've repaired those relationships. I need to testify about Ron and Brackness and apologise in person to everyone hurt by my actions. And I need to think of a proper name for VOMET and establish it properly, if we want to make any headway at all before it's too late. I can't do any of that from here, no matter how much I want to."

"Harry, once you're home, you'll forget about me. I've seen this before. A station is isolated and it amplifies the emotions, but out in the real world, things go back to normal. If I stay here, you'll forget about me."

"I haven't forgotten about you in thirty-odd years, what makes you think I will now?"

"Fine, not forget about me, but it will become a pleasant memory. One of the amazing – really amazing – things about living in Antarctica for a year. But don't get too attached; don't make this out to be more than it is."

He and Draco had been attached since they met in a bloody clothes shop as eleven-year-olds, but he couldn't say that. If his heart was going to be broken in this, he wasn't going to let Draco see it. He bent to the familiar task of inspecting the sleds and preparing them for repairs. Due to the size of the things, the repairs would have to be done in the shed and Harry wasn't looking forward to sitting out there in the cold. Still, he settled next to Draco and got to work, letting the blond turn the conversation to other things.

 

With the prospect of an early ship, the entire station was in a flurry. The ship wasn't bringing the entire summer crew, but there were enough that they were going to need some doubling up in dongas. Luna and Rolf and Harry and Draco quickly agreed to share, leaving Rolf and Harry's room for the first four wizards to arrive as part of Merlin Base's contingent. There was someone Draco had recommended from America, a Canadian witch who had worked extensively in Alaska, and Charlie had brought along another dragon expert. With a week to go, all of Harry's things had been packed up and moved into Draco's small room and it seemed like every dinner conversation was about the fresh food that the ship was likely to bring.

"There won't be another argument, will there, Harry?" Jack asked in the kitchen one afternoon. "I want this base to be as stress-free as possible, while I'm hosting eight witches and wizards."

"We've resolved our differences as much as we're able to, Jack."

"Which differences can't you resolve?"

"Whether any emotions experienced in this place could be real." Harry could feel the cynical twist of his lips.

"Normally, I'd say no."

"Normally?"

"From what I understand, you and Draco have a history that started a lot longer than last December when you got on the ice. School boy enemies, different sides on a war, you saved his life and his mother saved yours."

"How do you know that?"

"The lovely Luna gave me a book for my birthday: _The Boy Who Lived, An Unauthorised Biography_ by Rita Skeeter."

Harry felt his mouth twist. "There are better accounts, even if all of them _are_ unauthorised."

"Maybe you could write one yourself, now that you've discovered your literary side."

"Perhaps."

"My point is, it's not like you two have met and fallen in love since you arrived here in March. There is more than just shallow feelings – your feelings for each other had depth thirty years ago, am I right?"

"Who said anything about love?"

"No one had to, Harry. It's clear when you look at him." Harry knew he probably looked like he was sulking, but Jack kept talking anyway. "And it's clear when he looks at you."

Harry looked up in surprise, but Jack was already walking away.

 

**October 31, 2020: Watching the sun rise over the ice, turning icebergs translucent and tinting the snow pink, is a sight I wish I could share with everyone I know.**

Harry began his Hallowe'en by pulling on all his outdoor clothes and following Draco down past the summer buildings to a small outcropping that looked over the water. The sun was coming up over the horizon and it took Harry's breath away. The water was tinted red and the many icebergs in the bay had taken on a pink, glass-like hue.

"If I could put it in a Pensieve and make everyone see it, I would. Then they'd be trying to save it."

"Still so naïve, Harry? Do you think seeing this would have changed Tom Riddle into a greenie? Or my father? Or even that imbecile Fudge?"

"No, I suppose not. But for _most_ people. You know, the ones who haven't split their soul…"

Draco snorted. "Jack asked if we'd do the colony count." He was talking about the Adelie penguins that had returned to the mainland three weeks ago, after a winter spent on the pack ice.

"We shouldn't be waiting until their eggs have hatched?" Harry was looking forward to it, though the first summer people would have arrived by the mid-November hatch date.

"No. This one will be used to measure against the adult population this time last year. We have to manage three counts over the next couple of weeks and they average the number out. Then, after the eggs have hatched, they'll do another census, but we'll be off to Merlin by then."

"We don't have to do the Emperor penguins?" The larger penguins had stayed out on the ice for the entire winter and Rolf and Luna had taken Harry out one day to watch them as they huddled together against the cold.

"Rolf and Luna have been looking over the Emperors over the winter, and there's a whole team of researchers arriving in one of the boats, according to Jack, so they'll take over once they're here. For now, we need to worry about the Adelies."

"Do we count from up here?"

"No." Draco took Harry's mittened hand in his and led him towards the edge of the ice.

"We'll scare them off!"

Draco just shook his head and Harry allowed himself to be led into the mess of penguins, chattering to each other and taking turns sitting on their eggs.

"I-" No. Speaking wasn't going to happen as these small black and white birds scuttled around him as if he weren't even there. Draco was walking in lines, counting aloud to himself as he went.

"That's fifty, Harry. You need to remember how many fiftys I tell you."

Harry nodded and got out paper and pencil to make small marks. He carefully moved around the small bodies to catch up and then followed Draco as he counted heads around the space the penguins had settled into.

When they reached the other end of the colony, Harry took the opportunity to pull his mitten and glove off and hold his hand out for the penguins to investigate. Draco was frowning.

"Why aren't they scared of us?"

"Unlike everywhere else on the planet, we've never been their predators. They've never had to learn fear of humans."

"That's kind of beautiful."

"Or it would be, if it wasn't caused by the fact we couldn't find the place and have never really had a permanent population. If there had been humans here more regularly, you can be sure they'd scatter like every other wild thing on the planet."

"Why were you frowning?"

"Oh, there should be more. I had a look at the figures from the last twenty years yesterday, and they were continuing to do well for a long time, but there's a noticeable decrease in the last few years."

Harry wasn't sure which he found more admirable – that Draco just looked at and remembered the figures, or that he sounded so worried about the fate of the creatures. Either way, listening to him talk about the penguins made something in Harry's heart clench and brought a grin to his face. "Why the decrease? Climate change again?"

"Indirectly. It's most likely due to their food source drying up." Harry raised his eyebrows and Draco kept talking. "They eat krill – Antarctic krill – and as the ice breaks up the krill have nowhere to hide, so they're eaten by other predators prior to the Adelie getting into the water. Prior to them even breeding, really. As the weather gets hotter, everything is put in danger."

Harry yelped suddenly as a little penguin decided to see whether his finger was a suitable substitute for krill.

"Idiot," Draco said fondly. He dragged Harry up and carefully cleaned the blood up, before dragging him back towards base. "Edward will put a band-aid on you."

"It just needs an _Episkey_ ," Harry said.

"That's one of those little bits of magic that add up, Harry. No healing spells for such a little scratch. The Muggle way is better, except that every time I say that, my father turns in his grave and causes a mini-earthquake in Wiltshire."

"Will you kiss it better, at least?" he asked, as they moved over the dirt starting to show through the ice towards the main building.

"Now _that's_ powerful magic, but since it makes no – what did you call it? Magithane? Since it makes no magithane, I guess I can."

"No one's ever kissed an injury better for me before. Not that I remember."

An expression crossed Draco's face that Harry couldn't quite read, but it was quickly replaced by a sort of exasperated affection. "Come on, then. First time for everything, Potter."

 

By mid-afternoon, Harry and his bandaged finger were in the kitchen and Harry was trying to figure out how to create his favourite Hallowe'en treats with the cans of food they had in storage. Treacle tarts were easy and already in the oven, but pumpkin pasties were a little more difficult. He'd found some pumpkin pie filling that an American expeditioner had left behind when he caught the last ship out. He honestly didn't know how the elves made the treats and couldn't find anything like them on the internet, so he was making it up as he went along.

The pie filling was quite sweet and Harry mixed it with the spices that were on the pumpkin pie recipe on the can. Sweet pastry was easy enough to make with Curtis' help, and Harry soon had some rolled out and waiting for the addition of the filling. He concentrated on turning the edges of the pasties to make sure they didn't break apart during cooking.

He found himself thinking, yet again, of how soothing cooking the Muggle way was. Maybe it was something that should be pointed out in the upcoming campaign for using magic less. The meditative effects of kneading bread by hand, or the exercise in walking where you needed to go. He slipped the pasties into one of the ovens and set to cleaning up, slipping the bandage off his finger while he washed the dishes. He looked up to see Draco enter the kitchen just as he finished wrapping a new one around his fingertip. Draco grabbed his hand up and pressed a kiss to the sore spot.

"All better," he said with a smile. "Merlin, Harry, are those pumpkin pasties I smell?"

"I always loved pumpkin pasties at the Hallowe'en feast. I thought I'd try to recreate the taste."

"Well, if they taste as good as they smell, you'll have another lot of converts on your hands. You'll have to make them with every meal."

Curtis had managed another roast in the last oven and the rest of the crew were starting to drift in for dinner.

The talk around the table was all about the newcomers. It was the last big celebration before the summer people started to arrive; they were due in the next few days, and Harry suspected that despite this, they were only celebrating Hallowe'en for the sake of the small magical contingent. The Australians liked any excuse for a party and were happy to get dressed up, eat good food and drink more than they should, but Harry saw Draco and Luna looking wistfully at the pumpkin pasties and treacle tarts, obviously remembering Hallowe'ens past.

"Someone should tell a ghost story," Marcy said.

"Harry probably knows some good ones," Jack said. "He's a writer after all."

Harry scowled at the man, but launched into the tale of a poor man accused of causing a horn to grow out of a woman's head back in the late 1400s, who had an incompetent executioner who didn't manage to sever the poor man's head. Somewhere along the line, he must have learned how to tell a story, because everyone was in peals of laughter as he spoke about the anguish a poor ghost who is only nearly headless has, when he wants nothing more than to join the Headless Hunt, but can't.

"What does he do then? Since he can't hunt headlessly?" Rolf asked.

"Oh, wander around annoying people, I expect," Draco said. "Probably retelling that same bloody story day after day and looking down his haughty nose at anyone who told him to shut up about it already."

"You've had too much to drink," Harry said, pulling the whisky glass away from Draco. "Edward, you tell a ghost story."

Harry was delighted by the tales told around the table, of ghostly hitchhikers and mad men hiding under the beds of young girls licking their hands. Draco complained that he'd heard them all before, but Harry could tell Luna was as fascinated as he was.

Finally, when Draco began telling the story of a famous Baron killed in a violent duel, whose blood still stains the robes he wears, Harry decided to intervene.

"Time for bed, Draco."

"I'm telling the story of the Bloody Baron, Harry."

"Well, you shouldn't be, _and_ you're telling it wrong."

"I know the story. He's the ghost of my House, after all."

Harry rolled his eyes at everyone else. "Draco grew up in a big old manor in Wiltshire, where they have ghost stories galore."

"Must be nice growing up in England where there's a history," Edward said, and Harry was glad to hear the conversation turn to new things.

"What is the Baron's story, Harry?" Luna asked and Harry almost groaned.

"Maybe another time, Luna. I need to get Draco to bed."

"I want to hear it as well," Draco said with a pout.

"Fine," Harry said, plonking back down into his seat. "Okay, this is from some research I did into old ghost stories. The ghost is known as the Bloody Baron, and his legend says he lived over a millennium ago. He was in love with a woman called Helena Ravenclaw, who, it was said, was the beloved daughter of a very powerful witch. Helena's mother, Rowena, had a very powerful artefact that her daughter wanted, but Rowena saw the greed for power in her daughter and refused to give it to her. In a particularly immature flounce, she left her lover, the Baron, and her mother, and went out into the world.

"Sometime later, Rowena discovered she was dying and asked the Baron to collect Helena. The Baron, a powerful wizard in his own right and often an angry one, sought high and low for Helena and when he finally found her, she refused to come back. In a rage, he murdered the woman, and it is her blood that stains his robes. Once he realized what he had done, he killed himself, and that is why he remains a ghost, haunting the place they originally fell in love and condemned to be forever spurned by his love."

"Spurned?" Marcy asked.

"The legend has it that she is the Grey Lady who also haunts the place."

"That's pretty bloody depressing, Harry," Rolf said, and Harry saw Luna sitting beside him looking very thoughtful.

"So even the Bloody Baron fell in love? Enough to die for the woman?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded.

"Would never have believed it of the old bastard," he said in a slurred voice, as he fell asleep on Harry's shoulder.

 

Harry was woken the next morning by shouting and then a banging on the door. Jack poked his head in their room. "It was a clear run down. Your friends are here."

There was groaning at his side and Harry turned his head at the sour alcohol smell that was Draco's breath. "Tell me that there's hangover potion somewhere in here," the blond murmured.

"You can't have any. They'll be expecting you to be hungover."

"Nuh-uh," Draco murmured as he opened a drawer and grasped a vial of familiar blue fluid. He downed it before Harry could stop him and began to look better almost immediately. "I always have plenty – they just think I'm the sort of lucky git that never gets hungover."

"Well, you should at least wash the sweat that smells like whisky off, before you go greet the new Merlin base founders."

Draco looked at him sharply.

"That's why Jack was here. They're early."

Draco waved his wand in a short-cut of a cleanse and they both went to get outdoor clothes on, so that they could say hello and help unload.

Three hours later, Harry and Curtis were standing in the middle of a veritable flood of fresh produce, grinning at each other, while Draco and Jack ran through the safety talk for the newly arrived crew. Jack had done an earlier one for the Muggles and Draco was helping the four wizards, all of whom knew very little about Muggle life.

Curtis decided on lightly steamed fresh vegetables with a Hollandaise sauce and Harry was going to bake some potatoes and grill steaks for everyone. All the overwinterers wandered through the kitchen at some point to grab an apple or banana, or steal some of the carrot sticks Curtis was carefully chopping up for dinner.

Harry sat down beside Draco to hear the last of the instructions.

"We'll be setting off in two days – the sooner the better, really – to get to where we'll be building Merlin base. Out on the ice, it's important you listen to myself, Luna, Rolf or Harry. We've done it before. We're the experts," Draco was saying. Harry felt a burst of pride at being included as one of the experts, when this time last year, Draco had been saying he was completely useless.

"Do we always share tents with the same people?" Charlie asked.

"We would normally recommend swapping regularly, but the four overwinterers fell into habits during our last trip which seemed to work well," Draco replied and Harry covered his snort at the early animosity and the outright hatred of the last few weeks of the trip. "I'd still say you four should swap until we're set up at Merlin Base and everyone can have their own rooms. The ice, well… People will piss you off. No matter if you like them, or they seem like decent people, or whatever. Look around at the faces around you – you will want to strangle these people with your gloved hands at some point before the end of this endeavour. It's better if you can avoid your potential victims, should you need to."

The American – Miranda, Harry thought she was called – looked alarmed, though everyone else sniggered.

"Draco's right," Harry decided to put in his two Knuts. "You'll be spending time with only seven other people, to begin with, and there will be no way to escape. To top it off, the actual trek is physically and mentally exhausting, and it will feel like you're surrounded by nothing but seven people you really don't like and never-ending _white_. It's like being in a big family, I expect, but without the option of nicking to a friend's place, if your brother turns your teddy bear into a giant spider."

Charlie met his eyes and grinned as Draco went back to the lecture. Harry thought back to that morning when Charlie first came off the boat. He'd grabbed Harry up in a giant hug, and even through the multiple layers of clothing Harry could feel the warmth, the sincerity, coming off of him. "I'm sorry," he'd said thickly and Harry had replied, "Me too," and left it at that. They probably needed a more in-depth conversation before they were expected to trust their lives to one another on the ice with an angry dragon, but for now, it was nice just to feel like he had a family again, beyond the make-shift one he'd formed on the ice.

The only thing he had to worry about now was that Charlie wouldn't be angry on Ginny's behalf that he'd fallen for Draco Malfoy.

 

The two days went by in a flash and involved packing up their original crates to be stored in the shed. Harry's was there to be sent home when he was ready to go and Draco's would stay for transportation to Merlin when it was ready to be populated. He and Draco hadn't spoken of the job opportunity since he was told he shouldn't get attached, but Harry suspected that he would be staying for at least one more winter.

"I'm going to miss this little donga," he told Draco when they were all packed up.

"You always did manage to find a home in the oddest places, Potter. I'll bet you wouldn't have left Hogwarts for the summer, if they didn't force you to."

"It's all about the people you're with," he murmured, half-hoping Draco couldn't hear. Thankfully, there was a knock on their door and Harry could ignore Draco's sharp look.

"Are you two ready?" Rolf asked. "I'm ready to head off, and so are the snowmobiles." Two snowmobiles had been brought along to carry the larger pieces of material required for the new dwelling, though it would apparently go up quickly and without magic.

Two hours later, they'd managed a final equipment and supply check and a clothing check for the newbies. Then, finally, they were back on the ice. Harry knew he would be coming back to Mawson before he left the continent, he had to leave from here after all, but no matter how good it felt to be on the ice, he felt that this was an ending. Or the beginning of the end, he corrected, as he watched Draco pull his goggles over his eyes and turn his skis south once again.

They had to set wardstones – the easiest way to keep Muggles out and dragons in, with no one able to perform proper magic – at eight points of the compass around the place they wanted warded, so instead of going straight to the spot selected for the base, they first did a large circle of the area, giving Harry plenty of time to spend in Draco's company. Instead of the three days that he and Draco had spent on the ice to find the dragon, the Merlin Team, as they'd taken to calling themselves, were going to be trekking for about a month, all told.

He and Draco fell into a routine familiar from their first trek, except that this time they zipped their sleeping bags together and in the cocoon of warmth they created, they sucked and fucked and _made love_ , Harry told himself fiercely, and all with an urgency he hadn't felt in the timelessness of the base, where he could tell himself they would stay forever. There were sniggers and smirks each morning, and strange looks from Charlie, but he didn't care; he was going to take advantage of every minute given to him.

He kept waiting for Charlie to ask him something about Ron or Ginny or even Draco, but all he asked was when he could go get a look at the dragon.

"We haven't seen it yet either, Charlie," Rolf said. "But you know it's better to set the wards, first."

Charlie just grumbled in a way that told Harry that the red-head hadn't been happy with his promotion to semi-administrative duties.

Finally, they found their way back to their building site, only five days’ ski from Mawson, and everyone started following the written instructions to get the pre-fabricated building in place. He knew that their Muggle friends back at Mawson had seemed appalled at how little they'd brought, but once they had one building up and heated, they could unshrink the rest of the boxes and build themselves a kitchen and additional rooms and bloody wizard space, if they wanted to. Four reasonably small walls were going to hide a very luxurious sort of home for whoever was staying. Besides his seven companions, Harry knew that other wizard scientists were going to come for overwinter, as well as a cook and a maintenance person and the like, but he wouldn't be enjoying the accommodations. It almost made him wish he'd just jumped on the first ship back.

 

It was after they'd moved into the small base that Charlie finally approached him.

"Draco Malfoy, Harry?"

Harry only nodded. There was no real need for further comment.

"That's a bit of a jump from your previous relationship."

"Ginny was always aware I was attracted to both sexes, Charlie. She won't be surprised."

"And your children?"

"Draco is staying here and I'm going home. It's unlikely my children will ever be aware of the connection."

"Harry, I know my family and I have been idiots for the last couple of years. No. We were," Charlie said, when Harry tried to deny it. "But I've known you for twenty five years, and you've been considered family by most of us for longer than that. I can tell that you really care about him."

Harry nodded solemnly, not wanting to hide his feelings, wanting someone to _know_ , to know that _he_ knew, even though Jack and probably everyone else at Mawson was aware. But he didn't say anything. He couldn't. Instead, he said, "Apparently, what happens on the ice, stays on the ice."

"That's pretty cold, Harry."

"Well, this is Antarctica."

 

**December 6, 2020: Merlin Base felt like an achievement and we were doing something that made a difference, no matter how ambivalent my feelings about leaving were.**

Moving into the donga felt wonderful and Harry was once again pleased to have heated water and a comfortable bed – this one looking like his old four-poster from Hogwarts – and the opportunity to shave. Of course, they were planning to head out on skis again tomorrow and go further into the new reserve to find the dragon. He really didn't want Draco to go, but he and Draco were the only ones who had seen the dragon the first time.

"Why don't you wait here, Draco? There's no need for both of us to trek out in the snow," he finally said, after they turned the lights out that night.

"Well, because I want to go. But you can stay if you like – I have more experience on the ice and I know you always get _so cold_ ," Draco replied. Harry enjoyed that teasing tone in his voice, the one that told him they were _comfortable_. But right at the moment, he wanted to be serious.

"I've got Auror training behind me, Draco. I'm a little bit safer, or more prepared out there. You could stay here and be, well, safe."

"Considering how restricted magic is in Antarctica, I hardly think your _Auror training_ will help at all. And I'm the one who's used to moving over the snow." Draco was sneering in a way that Harry hadn't really heard since Greenland.

"You're the one who almost died last time, Draco." It occurred to Harry that he was revisiting the argument from earlier in the year when Draco had felt so powerless, but he couldn't stop the words spilling from his mouth.

"And this time, I won't be caught by surprise. It's not only Saint Potter who can be of use to wizarding society, you know."

"You know me too well to think that of me anymore, Draco. It's not what I'm saying at all."

"I don't really care what you're saying. If you don't want to go on the trip, then don't. But I’m going."

"Draco, I-" Harry watched Draco stalk out the room, pillow and blanket tucked under his arm. The door slammed shut behind him. "I just don't know what I'd do, if you were hurt again," he murmured to the closed door.

 

The next morning, Harry woke when Draco stalked in and collected his polar clothing, but Harry didn't say a word as he stalked out again. Harry resigned himself to sharing with Charlie or Charlie's dragonkeeper friend, Ivan, for the week-long trip they had planned. Draco made it sound as if he was doing them a favour by swapping, but Charlie and Luna looked worried and Rolf was clearly exasperated by the announcement.

Charlie didn't wait to confront him when they set up camp that night. As soon as they were in their tent with the flap closed, he asked, "What the hell's going on, Harry?"

"Aren't you meant to be complaining about how you're too old for this shit?" Harry asked, hoping his ploy to distract the man wasn't _completely_ obvious. Considering Charlie was keeping up far better than Harry had at the beginning, and he was almost fifty, he was clearly _not_ too old for this shit.

"Nah, it keeps me young," he said with a wide grin that was painfully reminiscent of Ron's. "And so, my aches and pains don't distract me in the least. I thought you wanted to enjoy your last lot of time together."

"I kind of pissed him off by suggesting he stay at base."

"Why would he do that? He's great on the ice."

"Because he could get hurt!"

"He could get hurt here after you leave."

"Don't you think I know that? No matter how much I want to beg him to come with me, I can't. But I can try to protect him while I'm still here. Fuck, he almost died last time."

"Neither of you were prepared last time."

"Yeah, I know that, too." Harry finished hanging up his clothes to dry and slid naked into his sleeping bag. "I just don't want it to be over."

"Have you told him that?"

"No."

"Then you're a far bigger idiot than I thought, Harry." Charlie looked at him until Harry had to turn away. "What are you afraid of, Harry?"

"I'm sure that therapist your sister made me see after the war would tell you it's a fear of rejection based on having affection withheld as a child, but that's probably just a fancy way of saying, I'm afraid he'll laugh in my face, as he has done so many times before."

"If you trust him so little, after all this time in close contact, maybe it is better you leave with nothing else said."

"It's not that I don't trust him!" Charlie just raised his eyebrows, leaving Harry to huff out a deep breath of frustration. "Gods, Charlie, I don't trust anyone."

"Well, you-"

"Should. Yes. The therapist was very clear on that as well."

"We probably didn't help. Look, Harry, we're all really sorry about what happened. Mum's absolutely devastated about, well, what she said. And Ginny would take you back-"

"No, she wouldn't. She told me that there was someone else, and Al and Lily both mentioned that they'd met him over the holidays. Charlie, you don't need to apologise to me. I don't blame anyone for something that was entirely my mistake. There's that lack of trust again."

"You're still part of the family. Mum wanted me to tell you."

"It's good of her to say, but with this new guy of Ginny's, I don't think it would do to have me hanging around."

"The rest of us would be happy if you did. He's a right prat."

"Anyone I know."

"Cormac McLaggen?"

"Ugh, really? I thought she had more taste."

"Apparently not," Charlie replied and Harry smiled. Even if he wasn't sure he'd ever feel like part of the family again, it felt nice to lay in bed chatting to a Weasley.

 

Harry had been sensing the magical signature of the dragon for the entire time they were setting the wards, but as they'd moved inwards, the buzz of the magic grew. The next day, Ivan mentioned he was feeling it, as well, and Harry thought they must be close.

"Can you do the magithane-revealing spell?" he asked Draco.

"We're not close enough yet. We were further south."

"Well, for starters, it's a dragon. It could have moved. Secondly, I think I'd prefer to see it in advance this time, rather than being right on top of it when we figured out it was there."

"That's intelligent, I suppose," Draco said, though his tone made it sound like he thought it was anything but. Harry watched him pull his wand from under his parka, and kneel to the ground to murmur familiar words. The air immediately lit up with purple, getting deeper in the distance with the outline of dragon on the horizon. It was more westerly than the direction they'd been heading and everyone adjusted their skis to the new heading and just looked.

"It's not really invisible, is it?" Harry asked.

"From the little we've been able to glean from ancient texts, they're just very good at camouflage. When they're settled on the snow, it's almost unrelenting white. If there was snow here, they'd get covered and be indistinguishable from a giant drift or small, snow-covered mountain."

"It never snows here," Rolf said. "Or only rarely, anyway."

"Really?" Charlie asked, and the two of them fell into a conversation about Antarctica's status as a desert. Harry sidled sideways on his skis to stand next to Draco.

"Shall we set up camp here and leave the experts to it?" he asked. He only got a dirty look in reply.

 

It was only an hour later that Ivan held his hand up to halt their skis. Charlie drew up alongside him and they bent their heads to talk furiously together as they gestured at the beast in front of them.

"Hagrid would have loved it," Luna said, and Harry and Charlie both nodded.

"Do we want to get closer?" Rolf asked.

"No. We heard the lecture; if something goes wrong, there's no way to stun her. I'm not sure if we'll be able to study her until she dies," Charlie replied.

"And she looks young, so hopefully that will be a long time from now."

"You could think about a tranq gun," Draco said.

"A what?"

"It's a gun that shoots a needle full of a potion that puts the animal to sleep."

"Yes, I've seen it used on polar bears," Luna said.

"It's an idea. Thanks, Draco."

"You're welcome, Charlie."

"We can probably head back to camp now," said Ivan, and he received four shocked looks.

"That's it?" asked Rolf. "You came to Antarctica for what amounts to a glance?"

"No. We came to Antarctica so that she could be contained. We'd like to track her, but with magic the way it is, there's no chance without an artefact of some sort, so we'll need to, uh, tranq her first. So, for now, that's that. But we've seen her. We know what we’re dealing with. And she's brooding, by the looks of it, so no one is getting closer." Ivan sounded quite determined about the matter.

"Let's get back to Merlin and we'll figure out the plan for the rest of the summer. A couple of weeks on the ice after the rest of the team turn up," Charlie said. "And we'll bring you guys along, if you like."

Harry noticed Luna and Rolf nodding eagerly, but he thought it was probably time for him to leave.

 

When they decided to make camp, Charlie quickly asked if Harry wouldn't mind swapping with Ivan. "We need to discuss what we saw today. You understand, Harry?" he said in front of everyone, so that both Harry and Draco would need to agree. Harry just nodded, hoping that the night time discussion would at least be quiet, even if it couldn't be civil.

It started out non-existent as they moved silently through the motions of setting up for the night, hanging their clothes and cooking a quick dinner on the camp stove.

"Question time tonight?" Draco asked as he climbed into his own, very separate, sleeping bag, grasping a mug of cocoa.

"Sure," Harry said, willing his naked body not to react to the fact Draco was looking at him. It was rather like the first time he'd started sleeping naked in Antarctica and Harry frowned at the thought. They'd gone all the way back to that. "Ask away."

"What's your problem?"

"Well, Hermione always said it was a saving-people thing, though you and Professor Snape seemed to think it was my intelligence. I usually say the scar is the only problem."

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."

"What are you talking about, then?"

"Trying to convince me not to come on this trip. Keeping me away from the dragon."

"They're bloody dangerous, Draco. Why would you want to go near it?"

"I'm a big boy, Harry. Well and truly old enough to make my own decisions."

"No, you're mine!" Harry said, then turned away. He could probably perform a quick memory charm, so Draco forgot that completely.

"Excuse me?"

He'd always been pants at Obliviating people. "It almost killed me when that thing got you last time. And that was before, well, before _us_."

"Is this your _saving people thing_?" Merlin, the sneer was back.

"No, it's because I –" He couldn’t say it. "Because I care about you, you berk."

"Care about me?"

"Fuck, Draco, what do you want me to say?" Harry was longing for them to be at base or somewhere where he could perform a privacy charm, because he really wanted to yell at the blond git.

"What about telling me how you feel?"

"And explain to me why I'm going out on a limb here?"

"Because you're the one who's been acting like an idiot."

"I don't know how I feel, alright? I don't. But I know that this isn't some stupid thing caused by isolation and being in close quarters. I've known you for three quarters of my life; I haven't become infatuated by someone I just met. I don't want you to stay here where I won't see you for another year. Not when we're just figuring out what we're doing. I want you to come back to England with me and help me set up VOMET. I want you to visit my house and complain about my decorating and let me cook you something that doesn't come out of cans. And I want you to take me out to dinner somewhere fancy, and complain about how I dress and the fact I can't use the cutlery properly."

Draco was looking at him with a strange expression on his face, but Harry had to get this last bit out. "But if I can't have you in England – if you still think this is just a winter romance – then I don't want you to get yourself killed looking for a dragon, in a place where I won't be able to say good-bye."

Draco just stared at him until Harry couldn't take it anymore and he shifted in his bag so that his back was to the blond. "You don't need to say anything, Draco. It's just, you know, question time is sacred. I had to tell the truth."

Then a hand was on his shoulder pulling him onto his back and a hard body, still encased in a sleeping bag, was climbing on top of him. Draco's hair fell forward, creating a curtain around their faces. He was so close that it brushed Harry's jaw.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?" Draco whispered.

"You said, Draco. You said it was just winter and you'd seen these things before and I figured that meant you didn't really care." Harry spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the strange atmosphere that had built around them.

"I was talking out my arse," Draco said, in the same calm tone.

"It happens so often, I find it hard to tell the difference," Harry said with a small smile. Draco growled, but Harry stretched to kiss him and the kiss felt different this time. A comfort, instead of just excitement. It soothed, instead of stoking a fire, and although Harry's arms were still trapped, Draco brushed his fingertips along Harry's cheek and there was amazement in his eyes.

"I'll want to come back to Merlin one day, even if I can't be here the first winter."

"I want to come back with you. I've loved it here, you know."

"I know. But for now, it's back to England and our families and research and fund raising and the like."

"No. Now it's time to kiss and make up, so zip these bags together and show me how sorry you are for talking out your arse."

"Hey, you started all this!"

"I'll agree to disagree, but also point out that I can't move."

"Fine," Draco said, and kissed him again, and this time it was an _Incendio_ moving through his body, and the two thick sleeping bags between his cock and Draco's were two too many, so he pushed up and clambered out of the bag to help zip them together.

"Can't we use a spell?" he asked, as he pressed another kiss to Draco.

"No."

"Can we worry about the bags _after_ you fuck me?"

"No. We'll freeze during our post-coital nap, you git. Shut up and help."

With some fumbling interrupted by a lot of messy kisses and urgent caresses, they finally climbed back into the sleeping bag and pretty soon, all the expeditioners knew that they'd made up.

 

  


Epilogue  


**November 3, 2022: The plan had always been to go back, but it took a whole year more than we'd planned, and now I itched to see the ice again.**

"If you step up on the railings, you can fling your arms back and it will feel like you're flying," Harry whispered in Draco's ear.

"Having actually flown, Harry, I can tell you that the sensation one feels being on the bow of a ship is nothing like it. Also, good grief. _Titanic_ , now?"

"We're on a ship. There are icebergs. It seemed apropos."

"Listen to Mr Erudite. Think you're a big shot, now that you have a book published, right?"

Harry smiled. Hermione had sent him an email the day before they left, letting him know that his memoirs from Antarctica, _Magic on the Ice_ had made it to the _New York Scroll_ 's bestseller list. And his weekly column, _Green Wizard_ had been syndicated, so his vocabulary had improved over the last couple of years.

"You can't object to _Titanic_. It was epic and moving and made grown men cry."

"Merlin, you did. You _cried_ watching that _monstrosity._

"So, I have a thing for redheads." He settled his arms more securely around Draco's waist and propped his chin on Draco's shoulder. It was a year later than they'd wanted to return, and they'd rugged themselves up in polar gear to wait outside for their first glimpse of Antarctica.

"I still can't believe you made me have our goodbye dinner at the Weasleys’."

"You wouldn't have made me face McLaggen alone, would you? Not even I'm that brave."

"Though Ginevra obviously is." A noise beside them startled them, and they turned to watch a whale moving slowly through the water, its journey obviously leisurely at this point in time.

It had been almost two years since they'd last been on the ice, but the time had gone quickly. He'd had to testify against Brackness when he first returned to England, but after he was in jail, Harry could concentrate on the things he wanted to do. Writing, and educating the wizarding world on green issues, and building relationships that he'd ruined before he'd left England.

He was still uncomfortable around the Weasleys, but the relationships were starting to strengthen. He'd spent a lot of time with his children, especially James, and his eldest had developed a strong friendship with Draco and was even thinking about building a career in environmental management, though he didn't quite know which form the career would take. Harry was hoping he'd intern at the Magical Environmental Alliance.

"Do you think VOMET will be alright without me?"

"One of these days you're going to call it that during a speech and undo a lot of good. It's MEA. And considering you made the final decision on the name, I would think you'd manage to remember it."

"I just miss it being VOMET. It's a much better name. But could I have done more, staying at home?"

"Firstly, you've got the message out. Other people need to act on that message now. Secondly, we're here to do research, and if your columns are being written in Antarctica, it will keep the place at the top of people's minds. It's not your job to do all the work on this – the job is far too large for any one person – so just relax and enjoy a year at Merlin Base, okay?"

"Yes, Draco."

"You remembered your guitar?"

"It's a bit late if I didn't. Speaking of hobbies, I think Al and Scorpius gave me all the makings of Quidditchball. Their note just said 'you should do it, now that you have time'."

They shared a smile at the antics of their sons.

"Are you going to miss home?"

He'd miss his kids. They were almost grown, though, and away from home most of the year. He'd miss going for a walk in a park, but only a little bit. And he'd miss his friends, especially Rolf and Luna, who had just had twins and wouldn't be back in Antarctica for quite a while yet.

But that wasn't the point.

"This is home," he said, pressing his lips to the bare skin that Draco really should be covering up soon.

"Antarctica?" Draco asked.

"No. You."

"Land, ho!" came a call from behind them, and they both focused on the horizon again.

"There it is," Harry said.

"No, it's another iceberg."

"It's land, Draco. Ice, sleet, gale-force winds and long hours of constant darkness. That's home."

Draco lifted Harry's hand and Harry felt cold lips ghost over his palm. Then they both watched the ice grow bigger, as they returned home.


End file.
